#there's so much thunder and lightning cracks but in a very good way somehow?

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

voice acting and sound design in monster high gen 3 so good i just have it on in the background like an audio book

#monster high gen 3 #. #.. #.... #...... #so soothing! #favs include: #the headmistress's voice always #duces sssssnakes and their hissssing sssspeech #metallic clunking and squeaking of frankie's leg sometimes #drac's flap flaps #clawdeen whenever she makes or realizes something is a monster pun #twyla period #ALL OF LAGOONA THE ENERGY IS WONDERFUL #cleo cleo cleo cleo she's both dry and dramatic in delivery it's so great #ghoulia groaning or whenever she says “braaaaaaaainss” #there's so much thunder and lightning cracks but in a very good way somehow? #all the background sounds make me happy #even just like someone walking or setting something down #my brain is Happy

[apuckishwit]

Steddie- “I don’t think I like where this is going.”

*stares at the Word doc this is on*

Ummmm....oops?

I...I am very sorry for this. No one dies, that's all I'm saying. Also, this will be continued in like three parts I think because this bunny grew TEETH.

It ends when they close the Upside Down for good.

Of course it does. It was always going to end here, wasn’t it? Somehow, some way, it was always going to end here…from the very moment Will was first pulled down into this hellscape, they’ve all just been slowly making their way towards this very moment. There was never any other choice. He’s known that, deep down inside, for longer than he wants to admit.

The plan seems to be working, is the thing. No major surprises, no hiccups, no sudden changes, no need to scramble and improvise. Perhaps he should be nervous, but all he can think is that they might actually pull it off. They might actually put Vecna/Henry Creel/One/Whatever in the ground for good, might be able to close the gates once and for all and finally get their lives back.

He and Eddie are part of the diversion team—them, Robin and Nancy, Jonathan and his friend Argyle, Joyce Byers and Murray Bauman, along with someone named Agent Stinson and a small group of government spooks sent by some doctor that Hopper seems to more or less trust. They’ve split up along the gates that burst up into Hawkins all those months ago, causing general mayhem with government-issued firebombs and guns that had made Nancy smile in grim satisfaction. They’re not trying to cause any real damage—just enough to split Vecna’s focus, make him concentrate on shoring up his boundaries. Anything to give Eleven an advantage while she and Will (the only ones of the kids that are allowed anywhere near this fight and only because there’s no other choice…Steve was ready to die on that hill, but fortunately so were Hopper and Joyce) make their final stand with Hopper and the rest of the mysterious Dr. Owens’s soldiers backing them up.

He and Eddie are back-to-back at the edge of the Upside Down version of the trailer park, a circle of destruction around them. Neither of them had liked the idea of coming back here—where Eddie had almost lost his life, where Steve had almost lost his goddamn mind trying to stem the bleeding while Dustin sobbed and screamed and begged him to do something, Steve, please you gotta save him!. But they needed distractions at as many of the gates as possible, and he and Eddie know the area best. They had the best chance of escaping somewhere else if things went south. So. The trailer park it is.

“How much longer you think?” Eddie gasps, one hand leaving the barbed wire-wrapped club he’s got clutched in his hands to scrabble back against Steve’s hip. Steve grabs his wrist, intertwines their fingers. They’re both breathing hard, both bruised and dirty…but no major wounds. No blood.

He glances down at the watch still gamely wrapped around his wrist. “Ten minutes ‘til evac.” He glances up into the sky, watching for clouds of bats in the brief bursts of red lightning. The dogs came for them earlier—a whole pack of them, and Steve had breathed thanks to whoever was listening for the way Nancy pulled him and Eddie into the woods days before the final assault and drilled them on the weapons the government provided, made them shoot at target after target until she was satisfied that they could hold their own. They’d managed to take out the largest part of the pack before the things were on them before resorting to the club and Steve’s trusty nailbat.

The dogs were the worst of it. They haven’t seen any Demogorgons, haven’t seen any of the bats (they’d both agreed, at the first sight of the bats, they were retreating—Steve had made Eddie promise over and over that he wasn’t going to try and be a hero this time). They’ve done their part. Now it’s just a waiting game.

They feel it when El and Will succeed.

A tremendous crack, like thunder but a thousand times louder, splits the air. The ground trembles under their feet, and the vines choking the trailers and yards around them start writhing and shaking. Distant shrieks like dying animals sound, an eerie echo in the air. Forks of red lightning lance across the sky like strobe lights. The ground heaves again and Steve loses his balance, tipping back over into Eddie, who winds his arms around his waist and steadies him.

“Easy there! Think that’s our cue, baby,” he says, not letting go until Steve has his feet back under him. Even then, he doesn’t let go of his hand. Steve squeezes back. The ground shudders again, and Steve just nods.

“Yeah, time to go.” As if in agreement, the radio clipped to the front of his jacket crackles to life, Hopper’s voice ordering everyone to get to their pre-arranged evac points.

“Hop! The kids?” Joyce’s voice comes over the line, and Steve holds his breath until Hopper answers.

“They’re fine! It’s over…it’s all over as soon as we get out of here.”

Eddie lets out a huff of air that might be laughter, presses his forehead against Steve’s shoulder before darting up to kiss him soundly. “We did it,” he breathes. “We fuckin’ did it!”

Still hand in hand, they turn and race for the shell of Eddie’s trailer, and the gate that will take them home.

And that is where it all goes wrong.

*

It starts after the Russians.

His bruises fade, the damn near permanent ringing in his right ear—that he’s been dealing with since Hargrove caved his face in—settles back to a manageable level, and his ribs stop screaming at him when he twists too far to one side. He just…keeps getting headaches. Not quite full-blown migraines—they don’t take him out completely—but frequent, chronic headaches.

Frequent enough that he starts keeping a bottle of Tylenol and a pair of sunglasses in his glovebox. Frequent enough that he learns to recognize the very earliest symptoms of “a headache day.” Frequent enough that Robin, when she notices (and really, she notices scarily quickly, he’s not used to being seen the way Robin sees him), drags him to the library and spends almost three hours looking up possible side effects of frequent concussions, cross-referencing them with Steve’s experiences.

Then they spend a whole shift at Family Video making up a list of possible headache triggers for him to experiment with.

He doesn’t drink anything with caffeine in it anymore, Robin has been making him keep a damn food journal so they can start figuring out if anything in his diet is a trigger (it’s actually been really helpful, but it feels too much like homework for him not grumble about it), and he’s been trying to unfuck his sleep schedule.

The last is the problem—his sleep schedule has been fucked up since the night he got it in his head to go apologize to Jonathan Byers and walked into a horror movie.

He tries everything—he sets a rigid bedtime schedule, he works out in the evenings to tire himself out, he drinks the tea Robin steals from her kitchen for him (that turns out to be pretty nice…it doesn’t really help him sleep, but he finds it soothing anyway and keeps drinking it at night), but nothing really keeps the nightmares at bay except hard liquor or the little blue pills he finds left in his mother’s medicine cabinet from the last time his parents were in town.

And Steve knows the road both of those solutions lead down. Has two perfect examples. He has no desire to live his life swinging between sloshed and hungover like his father, nor does he want to drift around in a haze of Vicodin and “nerve pills” like his mother. Besides.

After the Russians, after that godawful shit they injected him and Robin with, he can’t stand the thought of being that out of control, that incapacitated again. But Robin really thinks getting more uninterrupted rest will help his headaches. And apparently popping Tylenol like candy can lead to stomach problems even if he is very careful not to take more than the recommended daily dose, so there’s that. There’s plenty else in his life trying to give him ulcers without adding fuel to the fire.

In desperation, he finally takes one of his few days off from Family Video (his father started putting money in his account every month again after Starcourt burned, but he doesn’t trust dear old Dad’s generosity anymore…that money goes directly into a separate savings account he opened and he funds his day to day expenses with his own paycheck) to drive the familiar route to the high school. He parks at the far end of the student lot, and tramps his way around the baseball field towards the wooded area that butts up against the school’s property.

He's never been to the little clearing with its old picnic table himself—Munson was discreet, but he’d still never cared to find out what his dad would do to him if Steve actually got caught buying from the local drug dealer. Usually he just passed a wad of bills to Tommy or one of the other members of the basketball team and let them handle buying the favors for his parties. Everyone knows where it is, though, and roughly what times Munson can be counted on to be there. Seniors have study hall the last period of the day, and only like ten percent of the population actually sits in the library and studies.

He sits himself down at the picnic table, closing his eyes and tipping his head back to enjoy the late September sun. He’s only been there for about ten minutes when he hears heavy, careless footsteps entering the clearing from the same direction he came. Instantly, his eyes fly open and he clocks the approach—the footsteps sound perfectly human, but this summer taught them that’s not necessarily a guarantee of safety.

It's just Munson, though, chains dangling from the belt loops of his ripped jeans and a logo of a band Steve has never even heard of decorating his long-sleeved t-shirt. A plain metal lunchbox dangles from one hand. He falters when his eyes land on Steve, his eyes widening sightly.

“Harrington?” he asks, surprise plain in his voice.

He tilts his head, suspicion replacing the surprise pretty quickly. Steve tries not to be offended. He and his old crew had mostly left Munson alone—not exactly a good idea to piss off the guy supplying you with illegal substances after all—but ‘mostly’ is not ‘totally.’ Steve’s pretty sure he never did anything personally to Munson…but he was probably friends with someone who did, and it’s not like Steve had ever tried to stop any of his buddies when they started in on someone.

“Hey,” he says, a touch awkwardly. Munson looks him up and down again, his eyes hard and wary, before cautiously sitting down across from him.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of such illustrious company?” Munson says, and Steve has no idea what illustrious means, but judging by the tone he doesn’t think it’s meant to be flattering. Munson doesn’t look like he’s going to turn around and leave, though, so he ignores the (probably) insult.

“You still sell?” he asks, and then kind of wants to smack his own forehead. Of course Munson still sells, that’s the entire point of this.

Munson lets out a little snort of laughter, and his shoulders relax a little. He laces his fingers together and rests his chin on them. “Well, I don’t hang out here for the ambiance, Harrington.” Munson smirks at him, and Steve resists the urge to roll his eyes.

Don’t piss off the guy supplying you illegal substances. It’s, like, rule one.

“I need weed,” he says, getting right to the point.

He doesn’t…he doesn’t really want to use anything. Not anymore. But Robin’s been right about the caffeine and the food journal and everything, and if she says finding a way to unfuck his sleeping will help, he’s willing to give it a shot. He doesn’t want to use alcohol, he doesn’t want to use his mom’s pills, and he sure as shit is not going to draw his parents’ attention back to him by going to a doctor for something more legitimate. Weed is the best compromise he can come up with. Just enough to mellow him out a little, without feeling out of control the way he did with the Russian shit.

Munson perks up a little. “Ooh, King Steve finally throwing another rager? Not gonna lie, man, my profit margin took a pretty big hit when you stopped those.”

Steve frowns. God, he hates that name. “What? No…uh, no. This is just for me.”

Munson tips backwards a little, placing his hands down on the picnic table to drum his fingers against the weathered wood. “Really now? Not that I’m not flattered you came to little ole’ me after all this time…but why after all this time? Whoever else you’ve been getting your stuff from get picked up?” He sounds like he’s teasing, now, but there’s something genuinely curious in his voice.

Already exasperated, and feeling the beginnings of another headache creeping around the edges of his brain, Steve sails straight past all the bitchy replies he could fire off. “Look, dude, everyone knows you don’t run your mouth to the wrong people and you don’t cut your stuff with anything dangerous and I need…” He stops, not having meant to be quite that truthful. “You want to make some money or what?” he snaps, not liking how still Munson has gone, not liking the way Munson’s dark eyes are boring into his.

“Someone give you a bad trip?” Munson asks quietly and fuck if he doesn’t actually sound a little concerned.

Steve can’t help the bitter laugh that bubbles up. Bad trip. He thinks of fists crashing against his face, ropes cutting into his wrists, the sickening fear of thinking he and Robin were both going to die in that bunker. If only it had just been a bad trip. “Something like that,” he mutters.

“Well shit,” Munson says, drumming his fingers on the tabletop again, the truly absurd number of rings he’s wearing flashing in the early fall sunlight. After a moment, he nods to himself. “All right, Harrington, how much you want?”

Steve tries not to sag in relief. Judging by the way Munson’s eyes sharpen again, he doesn’t quite succeed. “I dunno…I’d just like to smoke a joint before bed. Pretty, uh pretty regularly?”

Munson pins him with another sharp look, but then he relaxes, a slightly manic grin settling on his face. “Regular supply, huh? Oh, I think I like where this is going.” He plunks the lunchbox down on the picnic table.

#stranger things #stranger things fic #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #fic prompt #my writing #I'm so sorry #I hurt my own feelings with this one #steddie fic

[happyandticklish]

A Schooling in Humanity

Notes: Vaguely based off an ask I was sent in by an anon, and inspired by my latest re-reading of Dracula several months ago. Once again, I am here to write about classics no one cares about for my own personal gain, because I care about these characters more than I should. Also, Johnathan mentions something once in the book that vaguely alludes to the fact that he’s canonically ticklish, and I’m fucking running with that.

Summary: Johnathan reminisces on how Mina used to help him when his insomnia took a turn for the worse, and Dracula offers to rekindle the tradition.

The lightning cracked against the window once more, sending shock waves humming through his bones. It was dark in the spacious room, but every arc of electricity lit up the walls in shadows that ran the imagination wild. Normally, something as simple as a storm wouldn’t have bothered Johnathan, but there was something about this house, loud and creaky and full of secrets that taunted him in the dark, that put him on edge. He gripped the covers tightly, pulling them up to his chest and determining to go back to bed if only to prove to himself that this was all in his head.

Until a particularly large burst of wind slammed into the window, throwing it open with a dramatic crash. Heart seizing in his chest, Johnathan jerked awake once more, body stiff with fear. 

Logically speaking, he knew the real monster dwelled inside this very home and so there was no need to worry about outside intruders. Unfortunately, logic rarely won out in most internal debates of Johnathan’s.

Tea. Tea was the solution for most problems, at least in his experience, so there was no reason to believe the same rule wouldn’t apply now. Something warm to soothe his stomach and mind. 

Carefully, he slipped out of bed, shoving on his slippers and resisting the urge to wrap a blanket around himself for protection—a silly notion, but tempting nonetheless. He wasn’t a little boy anymore, and he wasn’t going to behave like one.

The kitchen was dark and abandoned, setting a crueler air than the bright mornings that usually occupied it. He lit a candle, placing it squarely in the center of the table. His hand trembled slightly as thunder rumbled insistently in the distance. A small blot of wax fell on the table, cooling immediately as it landed. Johnathan watched another sloping line follow its brethren, its crimson hue illuminated in the light as it struggled against gravity. He could only imagine how easily his own blood would fall, stricken by some invisible beast in the night, trickling pitifully down his skin.

“Johnathan?”

The rest of the wax came crashing on the table as Johnathan knocked it over in his haste to turn around. The Count—Dracula, he reminded himself, as they had long since moved past formalities such as titles—stood at the front of the dining table, gazing questioningly at Johnathan. For someone who had long since moved on from the realm of the mortal life, his eyes were filled with a very human concern.

A monster by all accounts, and yet, his presence was inexplicably comforting in the way a wolf can be nice when it’s defending you against the mountain lion. 

Dracula was different than just a protector though. This was something else, almost akin to friendship, but more. Friends hadn’t done the sorts of things they had done, but lovers felt too heavy a term, and wrong somehow. It was too simple, the label constraining any thought of abnormality within the relationship.

Johnathan coughed, clumsily attempting to right the candle, though it did him little good now. “Oh. I didn’t see you there. I apologize if I woke you.”

Dracula smiled, the gesture amused and fond all at once. “It’s alright, I was already awake. I don’t require as much rest as a normal human would. Besides, my night was restless, what with the storm. I presume that’s why you’re awake?”

“Yes. Well. Yes and no.”

Dracula wrinkled a brow. Confusion was a unique expression for the vampire as it occurred rarely, and Johnathan always felt a strange delight go through him whenever he was the cause of it. There was something satisfying about knowing something that an immortal didn’t. “I… see. So not the storm then?”

“Not entirely, no,” Johnathan confessed. It was useless to lie to him, he always managed to see through him anyway. Might as well get the truth out now and endure the judgement that came with it. “The storm merely awoke the unease already festering inside of me. Now, you must understand, this place is lovely and its host are… well.” There was a slight flush that rose to his cheeks, one that he was sure Dracula wouldn’t fail to miss, even in the dim candle light. “You’ve been very hospitable. So, I truly don’t mean to offend, it’s just that this whole situation puts me in a very stressful position, and there’s no guarantee that the ladies from before won’t return, not to mention how worried Mina must be at home. And this house is just so creaky, and—” he broke off, laughing at himself for how he surely sounded like a child, worrying about the dark. “I suppose my imagination must have gotten to me.”

Dracula was silent for a moment, all the time required for a thousand worries to flit through Johnathan’s mind of what he must think of him, and worse yet, if he had accidentally offended him with his implication.

“Is this a common occurrence, then?”

“I’m sorry?”

“The insomnia. I couldn’t help overhearing you rummaging about in your room these past several nights—past several weeks, rather. I wasn’t sure whether it was my place to impose or not.”

Ah. Johnathan had hoped he hadn’t noticed, though of course he would have. It was one of the downsides of living with a being whose senses were so finely tuned. He sighed, pulling out a chair to sit, defeated. He toyed with the candle as he talked, moving it in minute inches across the table. It was a nervous gesture that he wished he could stop, but he was afraid of clamming up if he did so.

“At times,” he admitted. “Mina always called it a restless disposition. Sleep tends to evade me most nights, each visit few and far in-between. Normally, it’s manageable, but that was with Mina. She had ways of calming it. Not entirely, but enough to put my mind at rest for the evening. With her gone and everything that’s happened, I’m afraid it’s gotten worse.” He paused. “I’m sorry. I must be boring you with all this mundane talk. I’m sure insomnia is a child’s joke to a vampire.”

Dracula chuckled, and that alone eased the tension off of Johnathan’s shoulders a bit. “It is a special skill you possess my friend. Somehow, everything you say turns into an apology.”

Johnathan opened his mouth, only to hesitate as a sorry fluttered and died on his tongue.

“You are my dear guest, and above that, my friend. I would never turn away your suffering. Perhaps I can even help.” He strolled casually across the kitchen floor as he grasped the back of Johnathan’s chair—even that simple action seemed unbearably elegant when performed by him. “You said your Mina usually helps you, correct? Maybe I can use her same methods. What would she do at times like these?”

Your Mina. No jealousy, simply stating a fact. He never seemed bothered by how Johnathan still cared for her, still longed for her touch and her company. He wasn’t sure if it had to do with his vampiric state—the nature of an immortal—or if Dracula had always been that way, but either way it caused a comforting warmth to bloom in Johnathan’s chest.

“Johnathan?”

“Oh! I’m sorry.” Damn. He said it again. “It’s just that it’s a tad embarrassing. I don’t know if someone like you would be up for it—it’s more of a human thing anyway.”

“Intimate, I take it?” Dracula guessed, his brow arching up once more. Crimson spread across Johnathan’s countenance, and rolled his shoulders forward defensively, physically preparing for the verbal assault he was sure to receive.

“No. I mean. Perhaps a little.” He ran a hand through his hair once, twice, a third time, tangling his fingers in the collected knots at the nape of his neck. He couldn’t tell if the action was calming or not, but at the very least it provided a distraction, something new for him to focus on as opposed to the words falling haphazardly from his mouth. “Sometimes she would sing to me. Other times she read, classics, poems, originals she had constructed that spanned epic tales of romance and intrigue. Usually, it was enough to calm me down. But at other times, when words alone weren’t enough, she would… ah. Well. Try more physical means.”

The words stuck in his throat and he struggled to get them out; it wasn’t a terribly large secret, but it was a special kind of mortifying that would only serve to make him seem weaker in the immortal’s eyes.

In his silence, Dracula garnered at a guess. “Intercourse?”

“What? No! Goodness no! I mean, not at a time like that anyway, obviously we, ah, that is…” he broke off at the amused smile Dracula directed at him—teasing again, in that dreadful deadpan of his that Johnathan always failed to interpret. He coughed again, trying once more. “I mean, no. Not that.”

“Then what?”

“Well, sometimes, to calm my restlessness, she would run her hands through my hair, or…” He coughed, his hand making another yet another round about his scalp. “Tickle me. Relax the nerves and all that.”

There was that adorable confused brow again. “Tickle you?”

“It sounds silly I know,” Johnathan agreed, a small smile tugging at his lips in a self-conscious gesture. “But it really did help. Demons seem so small with laughter at your tongue.”

His thoughts drifted, memories floating through his mind of late nights spent with Mina, fingers drifting softly over his shirt, sensation bubbling beneath the skin and prompting quick bursts of desperate flailing and laughter. His skin tingled, goosebumps rising as he remembered how it felt. Unconsciously, he let his fingers dip down his hairline, brushing against the back of his neck. His nerves registered his touch with a shiver, but it felt more relaxing than anything—not at all the same as when she had done it all those times before.

And then there was a different finger, longer than his, ended in a sharp, elegant nail that brushed against the back of his neck, a cold lump that he recognized as a ring pressing into his skin in its passage.

“So… this tickling helps, hmm?” His voice seemed to both comfort and unease Johnathan all at once. That singular nail played idly with his neck, drifting over the skin in soft swirls and swoops, his other hand coming to rest on his shoulder. The hair on his neck rose with each touch of Dracula’s finger, and Johnathan resisted the urge to shudder.

“Yes,” Johnathan managed after a moment, finding concentration difficult under the circumstances. “Most of the time, anyways.”

“Mm. And would now count as one of those times?”

Johnathan swallowed, feeling too hot and too cold all at once. “Perhaps. I really couldn’t say for certain. I suppose it would have to be tested for me to… well. Know for sure.”

A featherlight touch brushed behind his ear and Johnathan couldn’t help the way his shoulders jerked up helplessly, his body reacting before his mind could stop it. “If you don’t want me to, I’d more than understand. I know that I cannot replace Mina, and I have no desire to, either. However, in this area, I think I could be of assistance if you’d allow it. Though I have to admit that my skills might be a tad rusty. I have not thought of tickling in ages—I apologize if I end up preforming it incorrectly.”

Johnathan swallowed again, more as a way to stall than anything else. In truth, he hadn’t really thought about that particular tradition since coming here. There were so many other more important things to focus on—more life-threatening things—that it hadn’t once had an opportunity to come up. But now that he was here, the offer his to claim with only a nod of his head, he realized how much he had missed it.

He squirmed a bit in his seat, suddenly finding it difficult to remain still, as he nodded once. “I suppose I wouldn’t mind it. If you were willing, of course. I would never want to obligate you to…”

All at once his words trailed off as Dracula set in motion, the nail from before joined by others, all of which teasingly curled about his neck and ears; gentle, dragging touches that sent ripples of sensation coursing throughout him wherever they went. Without his conscious decision, his shoulders jerked up in a rather useless protection. It didn’t tickle quite yet, not in that real way that you felt more in your gut then across your skin. It was an itchy, pleasant thing now and Johnathan fought between the conflicting urge to bolt from his chair immediately and the building desire to lean further into Dracula’s touch.

“Is this working?” Dracula asked, hesitancy dripping from his words. A spiraling loop caught behind his ear, repeating until Johnathan was sure his facial muscles would sprain from scrunching up. “I’m sorry to say I’m a tad rusty; I haven’t had the opportunity to indulge in tickling in quite some time, and I can’t remember if this is right.”

It was a strange thought, Johnathan would later muse when he had the coherency to do so, to think that one could be so alone that something as simple and reflexive as tickling could become difficult. It caused a slight twinge of empathy and bafflement in Johnathan, a sentiment he did not share in the moment. Instead, he merely shifted his shoulder, pretending to be readjusting if only to disrupt those nails for a brief moment. “Not exactly, my friend. You’re close. You can’t be too light or it becomes annoying, and being too rough can become painful.”

Dracula’s hands stopped as he listened, and Johnathan tried not to miss even that not-enough-touch. “I don’t recall there being so many rules to the practice.”

Johnathan chuckled, hiding his smile quickly behind his hand; the vampire could become sullen if he thought Johnathan was making fun of him. “Well, they’re not rules so much as strategies. Here, I’ll show you.” He reached behind the chair, beckoning with his fingers. “Give me your hands.”

Dracula stared at him doubtfully for a moment, but eventually obliged, offering them over to Johnathan who slipped his own under Dracula’s—allowing the immortal to track his movements.

“It’s more like this.”

Making sure Dracula was still holding on, Johnathan moved his own hands down, self-consciously skittering fingers over his own sides. It was odd tickling oneself; his body twitched in vague alarm, before quickly relaxing as it realized the hands’ owner. He felt a bit silly doing it, but he had made a promise to teach, and so he expertly wiggled his fingers over his nightshirt, being careful to dig into his sides as he did.

Dracula watched avidly as Johnathan pointed out different areas that were more effective and just how to attack them, demonstrating the scraping pinch to his sides, the squeeze of his hips, the gentle spider over his stomach. It was a vulnerable process, like showing his hand in a game of cards and trusting that his opponent would be merciful with the information. The only difference here was that Johnathan was aiming for that specific lack of mercy that made this so addicting.

When he was finished, he released Dracula’s hands, a decision he nearly regretted when they came to rest on Johnathan’s sides instead. “So, there you have it,” Johnathan said, unable to hide the nerves creeping into his voice. “A complete guide on how to ruin Johnathan Harker. I don’t think even Mina knows about half the spots I just showed you, so consider it a privilege.”

“A privilege,” Dracula repeated softly, tapping his fingers in a gentle tune against his sides. Johnathan wasn’t sure whether the gesture was on purpose or not, but he couldn’t help the way he curled in slightly at the touch. “I have to admit, I’m honored. You must really be craving this if you’re willing to reveal so much.”

Though he knew they were honest words not meant to be teasing, Johnathan couldn’t help the way a blush spread rapidly across his face. He cleared his throat, hoping his voice didn’t sound as raspy as it did in his own ears. “Yes, well, I suppose it has been a minute.”

“Am I allowed to try, then?” The fingers curled in slightly in excitement, and Johnathan failed to stifle a gasp. “I’m eager to see what this tickling does to the distinguished professor.”

It was possible that Johnathan should have instated some kind of ‘no talking allowed’ rule before they had started, to prevent the wildfire of embarrassment roaring through him now. “I don’t see why not.”

Based on the earlier attempt, Johnathan had thought himself well-prepared. Evidently, however, Dracula had been listening well to Johnathan’s instructions, and the latter jumped in his chair as fingers set in all at once.

It was much different when someone else was doing it; he had nearly forgotten that in his time here. It was still a hesitant endeavor, but skilled now as it cautiously curled into fabric that brushed against Johnathan’s skin in unfairly distracting ways. He was doing it too slow which Johnathan suspected was out of uncertainty, but if anything it was only making things worse as the nails dragged in devastatingly light manners over his ribs.

He let out a strangled wheezing sound, slipping down in his chair as he flailed for some kind of handhold. Mercifully, Dracula ignored the embarrassing reaction, far too focused on trying to copy Johnathan’s early movements. Laughter was building in Johnathan’s throat, that helpless appeal that was so different from the polite chuckles most offer in day to day encounters. Sensation prickled at his sides irritably and he wanted to swat Dracula away, to call this whole idea off, to insist that he move down damn him, because he was getting far too close to that bundle of nerves under his arms.

“I’d forgotten how fun this could be,” Dracula mused, smiling at the stuttery laughs slipping out at a rather rapid rate now from the squirming man. “You look half insane already and I’ve hardly done anything. Is it really as intense as you’re making it out to be?”

“Y-Yes!” Johnathan squawked out, nearly hitting him in the face when he dragged all ten nails up his sides suddenly. He was repeating himself, making a careful examination of all the areas on his lower torso that made Johnathan want to hastily step out of his own skin, rising perilously high before stopping at his top most rib. Goosebumps broke out with every touch of his hands, and Johnathan squeezed his eyes shut, trying to gather control of himself. He didn’t want this to end immediately but it was growing harder and harder not to bolt out of Dracula’s arms immediately.

He had forgotten just how ticklish tickling could be.

A gasp was ripped out of him as he felt the presence of hot breath at his neck, and along with it, the knowledge of the sharp press of teeth that was sure to follow. It was exhilarating and dangerous and somehow still ticklish all at once, and Johnathan squirmed in his chair, wishing Dracula would stop pinching at his hips so he could concentrate on the pressing presence at his neck.

“This tickling is reminding me of something I’ve been wondering about for quite a while now.” Dracula’s breath hit the shell of his ear as he talked, and Johnathan positively giggled in some kind of mad anticipation that was making him far too giddy for his own liking. “The last several nights when we’ve laid together, you’ve always become nervous whenever I grew too close to this area. At first I had merely assumed you were worried I’d bite you.”

Johnathan’s grin was practically breaking out of his own face, his shoulders trembling with the urge to jerk up in protection.

“But upon seeing you like this, I’m starting to suspect there might have been another reason for your evasiveness.”

Carefully, Dracula removed one of his hands from his hips to tilt Johnathan’s chin upwards, gripping it to hold it in place. Teeth scraped carefully over his neck, a perilous game to play. It was a testament to Dracula’s will power that he did not simply bite Johnathan then and there, the allure of blood all too present as Johnathan’s heart thumped wildly with nerves and laughter. Instead of piercing flesh, however, he kept up this vague biting game, like when a dog gnaws on your hand in play or a kitten attacks your finger. Johnathan’s grin soon turned to tumbling laughter, his face upheld in a grimace of desperation. He couldn’t tilt his neck down, Dracula had made sure of that, and so he was forced to take the unbearably light assault that was quickly becoming too much to handle.

“D-Drahahac—!”

“Hold still, Johnathan, I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

Johnathan wanted to point out that one, that was an unfair tactic to play, and two, that Dracula was fully capable of restraining himself if he wanted to. Unfortunately, it was difficult to focus under the circumstances and he was unable to make either protest when an errant snort or yelp would interrupt him every five seconds. He gripped at Dracula’s arm, trying to ease his hold for some vague hope at freedom, but he had as much luck with that as if Dracula had been made of iron. Which was unfortunate, as Johnathan was sure he would die if Dracula didn’t stop soon. 

And yet, when Dracula paused and asked if he wanted a break (it was approaching morning after all, and Johnathan hadn’t had a very restful night due to a variety of circumstances both pleasant or otherwise) Johnathan found himself answering with a steadfast No. There was something so addicting about that specific brand of torture—an intimacy he hadn’t experienced since leaving home. He found himself craving it more and more as Dracula continued, and he wasn’t ready to have that all end now, sleep be damned.

He fell back into his chair with a choking shriek as Dracula began his process once more, this time with added fingers curling into his sides, and allowed himself to sink into the blissful euphoria taking him over once more.  

#tickle fic #dracula #johnathan harker #dracula x johnathan #dracula daily #fanfiction #tickling

[sunflowerdroplet]

Lost in Thought

(Just another fic)

Luigi shivered and let out a soft sneeze as he walked through the city on a beautifully sunny, yet cool Fall morning.

“If only I had brought my coat with me…” Luigi mumbled to himself as he tried to warm himself up by rubbing his bare arms. He wished he dressed better for the weather, the sun that had shined through his bedroom window lulling him into a false sense of security that the weather would be much warmer. Now, he was out and about wearing only a green t-shirt and blue jeans. And unfortunately, in his haste he had forgotten his iconic green hat. Still, he wasn’t too pressed about it. Having managed to sneak out of the house before anyone, especially Mario, was awake, and he hadn’t wanted to jeopardize that by going back inside.

Sigh…Mario…

Luigi felt his stomach clench at the thought of his older brother, the very reason why he was outside without a coat, the reason he hadn’t got to welcome the new day buried underneath the warmth of his blankets…and maybe even receiving a good morning kiss…

Their relationship was changing…had been changing over the past few weeks.

Luigi’s cheeks burned at the recent memory of Mario pressing a kiss on his cheek just last night before they both retired to their own rooms for the night. Kissing wasn’t new per say, but the intention was. What had once been a kiss or two here and there, displaying simple brotherly affection that they had done since they were little kids, had morphed into kisses of want, heat, and desire.

Their first kiss, their first romantic one, had been brought about on a particularly stormy night. Luigi, not liking the sound of booming thunder, had sought refuge in his brother’s room, just like he had always done many nights before. And just like always, Mario invited him into his bed and arms without question or complaint. Luigi was happily snuggled into Mario’s body heat with the other’s fingers running through his hair when a flash of lightning cracked the sky, and the booming sound of thunder shook their home. A panicked cry had left Luigi’s mouth before he buried his face in Mario’s chest. His older brother had gently shushed him, whispering promises that he would never let anything happen to him, followed by soft kisses on his forehead, nose, and cheeks.

It was something Mario had always done when he needed to be calmed down. And somehow…thanks to those promises, Mario’s warm body and touch…something had switched inside of them.

Lips were now trailing down his neck, pressing soft butterfly kisses there. Luigi whimpered out his brother’s name as the new, pleasurable feeling washed over him. Bare hands slid over his heated skin as Mario whispered soft, sweet nothings in his ear. Storm now completely forgotten, the younger brother soaked up the passionate affection as Mario brought their lips together for the first time.

Burning heat surged through him at the phantom feeling of Mario’s lips on his. A feeling, while embarrassing had the helpful effect of fighting off the chill from the weather. Yes, their relationship had changed and much to the green-clad brother’s surprise, he was okay with it. Sure there was doubt, and little fear in allowing this new thing between them to continue, but at same time, knowing that Mario, his dependable big brother would be there every step of the way made the future, their future seem bright.

‘Sigh…I left the house early so I could avoid seeing Mario, and yet he’s all I can think about.’ The younger chuckled softly to himself as he continued on his trek through the shopping sector of Brooklyn. The sun was climbing higher in the sky and by now Mario and the rest of the family should be waking up. Luigi hoped his brother wouldn’t be too upset with him leaving without saying a word. They were rarely apart from each other after all. And with their budding new relationship, it always felt like Mario needed assurances.

“I think maybe I should buy him a gift!” With a plan in mind, Luigi set about looking for the perfect gift for his beloved big brother. His cerulean eyes gave through the countless windows of different shops in hopes of seeing something special. Eventually, he happened upon a clothing store that had a selection of sweaters in their display window. The deep red, cable knit sweater immediately caught his eye and he could picture how good Mario would look in it. ‘There’s even a gold ‘M’ embroidered on it!’ Decision made, Luigi entered the clothing store, taking a moment to appreciate the store’s warmth, before going over to one of the employees.

“U-Um excuse ma’am?”

The blonde, female clerk turned to him with a pleasant smile and greeting. “Good morning to you, sir. Do you need help finding anything?”

Luigi returned the smile with a small one of his own. “Yes, please. I hoping to see your red sweaters like the one in the window.”

“Of course, sir!” The woman then led him the men’s clothing section where the desired clothing items were and asked him what size he wanted.

“An extra-large, please.”

“Oh?” the clerk said with a tilt of her head as she studied Luigi’s thin frame. “Is this for someone else?” She gave him a knowing smile. “Is it for someone special~~?”

The green plumber’s face turned a deep red at the question which caused him to sputter wildly, much to the clothing store clerk’s amusement. He opened his mouth to clarify that it was only for his brother, but let the words die on his lips. His big brother Mario was special to him. Easily the most precious thing in his life. And now that they were (gulp) dating, he shouldn’t shy away from this. “Y-Yeah…it is for my special person.”

The clothing store worker squealed in excitement. “Say less!” she exclaimed before grabbing the correct size sweater and dragged Luigi over to the dressing room. “Here, go try this on!”

“Huh? What?” started Luigi in confusion as he was pulled along. “This is gift for someone else, remember?”

“I know! But haven’t you ever heard of a ‘Boyfriend Sweater’? You should make sure it looks good on you as well! Are you telling me that you don’t already wear his clothes?”

Luigi, in fact, did wear Mario’s clothes from time to time. His family would always make fun of him whenever they saw the elder brother’s shirts hanging off of his lanky form. Mario, on the other hand, seemed to love it whenever Luigi wore something of his, the heated look in those deep, ocean blue eyes sending a shiver up his spine whenever Mario leveled the younger with it.

With a nod, Luigi entered the fitting room and pulled on the sweater. Now that he was wearing it, he could fully appreciate the article of clothing. The fabric felt incredibly soft while still being durable, which was good for someone like Mario. It had decent sized pockets and upon further inspection, the small gold ‘M’ stitched into the fabric rested right where his heart was. He touched the stitched lettering and smiled gently.

‘Ok, this will definitely be a good gift for Mario!’

OoOoO

Mario adjusted the red and white striped scarf around his neck as a particularly cold gust of wind swept passed. He was currently resting on a bench while looking at his phone. His fingers hovered over the ‘send’ button on his cell phone, his eyes reading and re-reading the message he had wrote to send to his little brother, Luigi.

‘…What if I’m pushing too hard…’ Mario thought worriedly. After all, it wasn’t often for Luigi to go anywhere without him, much less without telling him. Even more telling was the fact that Luigi left without his signature hat, something that he never left the house without.  Was Luigi…was he regretting the new path their relationship was on? As much as it would hurt, the older would give Luigi up if that meant he was happy and healthy.

*BZZT-BZZT*

Mario jumped in surprise by the sudden buzzing of his phone. Looking at the screen, he saw it was a message from the object of his tumultuous thoughts, Luigi! Relief raced through him, and he began reading the text.

Luigi: Hey Bro. You up yet?

Mario erased his previous message and typed up a new one.

Mario: I am. Where’d you run off to so early? I was worried…

Luigi: Sorry about that, bro. I just needed to take a walk to clear my mind.

Mario winced once he read the words. So, Luigi had been feeling overwhelmed by everything. Guilt clawed at him, until…

Luigi: I wish I had waited for you to wake up though. I miss you 😊

Mario felt a smile spread across his face at the text, feeling relief.

Mario: I really miss you, too 😘. Are you still wandering the city? You want to meet up somewhere?

Luigi: I would love to!

The twins made plans to meet near the local coffee shop and the older sibling was happy it wasn’t too far from where he was. Upon arriving at the selected location, Mario looked around but didn’t see his green-clad brother anywhere. Maybe he wasn’t here yet…?

“Hey Bro! Over here!” called a voice.

The red-clad brother turned towards the voice before his blue eyes landed on an individual also wearing the color red, who didn’t appear to have a stitch of green on, waving an arm at him. He squinted before recognizing the person waving at him. “Lu!?”

“Hey Mario!” greeted Luigi as he drew near.

Mario looked over his little brother’s appearance, taking in his wind tossed hair and flushed cheeks due to the cold breeze. “Hey little brother, almost didn’t recognize you with what you’re wearing.”

Luigi looked down and squeaked, as if he had forgotten what he was wearing. “Oh right, this is for you!”

The older twin watched as Luigi began pulling off the sweater, spying a flash of green from his t-shirt and an expanse of skin as he worked to free himself from the article of clothing. Mario choked at the impromptu strip session, glaring at anyone who stared too long at his brother’s exposed flesh before asking in an incredulous tone, “Did you not bring a coat with you?!” When his brother confirmed that he hadn’t, Mario quickly grabbed the red sweater and gently pulled it back down. “Keep that on until we get home!”

“B-But Mario,” whined Luigi, struggling against his brother’s firm hands. “I bought this for you to wear!”

“And I’ll wear it later, Lu. Right now, I want you to wear it and stay warm. The last thing I want for you is to be sick. Also…”

The younger twin blinked in surprise when Mario pulled his green hat from his jacket pocket and placed it on atop Luigi’s head. The action brought a smile to Luigi’s face, leave it to Mario to always take care of him.

“Geez Lu, you forgot your jacket, you forgot your hat…what else did you forget when you snuck out of the house?”

“I don’t think I forgot anything el—” The words died on the younger brother’s lips when his stomach let out a loud growl.

“Seriously, Lu? …Did you really want to avoid me that much?” He had been joking when he asked that, but Luigi hadn’t thought so.

“O-Of course not!” shrieked Luigi. Realizing that they were standing in the middle of the sidewalk, he grabbed his brother’s hand and dragged him down an empty alleyway. Once he was certain they were away from prying eyes, he quickly pressed a long, yet chaste kiss on Mario’s lips.

Mario was taken by surprise by the kiss but wasn’t complaining. But before he could deepen the kiss, Luigi was pulling back. “Lu?”

“I love you,” Luigi whispered, nervously twiddling his fingers. “I l-love you so, so much--and I wasn’t trying to avoid you! I just n-needed a moment to get my thoughts together! A-And I’m sorry that I made you worr--mmph!?” Luigi’s words were interrupted by Mario’s lips.

Unlike Luigi’s kiss, Mario’s kiss was deeper, more heated, more passionate. He swallowed up his brother’s surprised squeak as he pressed Luigi harder against the wall, tongue slipping past the other’s lips as he thoroughly mapped out the interior of the younger’s mouth. When he finally pulled back, Mario looked deep into Luigi’s eyes and said, “Oh Lu, I love you, too. And you don’t have to apologize. Yes, I was little worried when you weren’t there when I woke up, but it’s to be expected for you to be overwhelmed by something like this. We can slow down if you want. Let’s take this at the pace you want.”

Luigi rested his face in the crook of Mario’s neck, comforted by the other’s words. “You don’t have to apologize either. And…and we don’t n-need to slow down…” he grabbed Mario’s right hand and placed it where the gold ‘M’ was, right over his heart. “I’m ready for this, Mario.”

Mario felt his heart soar at the gesture. How had he gotten so lucky getting such a sweet lover? He pressed another kiss against Luigi’s lips before tugging their linked hands. “C’mon, let’s get you fed, yeah? And then we can spend the rest of the day in bed to get you properly warmed up~~.”

“M-Mario!” squeaked Luigi, face burning a bright red.

“What?” the older male asked playfully. “You know what seeing you in my clothes does to me.” He brought their linked hands to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to Luigi’s fingers. “Thank you for your love and the sweater, Luigi.”

THE END

#mario x luigi #mariocest #super mario #fanfic

[strawberryhierophant]

Writing Practice: Hank Comes Back

Written for my October Writing Challenge. I have missed well over a week, I think, because of personal issues. Let's try to get back on track.

****

He came from the cornfield. That's all I knew. I couldn't tell you how, or even why. He never told me himself. But he came so often, that I took to leaving out an extra chair.

Iowa may not seem like much to outsiders, but I've always loved sitting on a big porch, watching the sleepy cornstalks nod their heads under the summer sky. And I was doing just that, when I heard a crack in the air, not unlike a sudden clap of thunder, only there wasn't a cloud in the sky.

Maybe I already knew somehow what was going to happen. Because I rose from my chair and walked to the edge of the porch, eyes fixed straight at the spot where Hank came back from the dead.

That first time, he looked so tired, not like he did when he was alive. And me being me, I couldn't resist asking stupid questions.

"Hank, you're supposed to be dead, aint ya?"

"Yep," he said. His eyes blinked heavily, like that single word had cost him heavy.

The only thing I could think to do was ask him to sit down. So I did. I gave him my chair, and he sank into it slowly, like an old man, even though he looked just as young and strong as ever. Everything about him looked just the same — except his skin, which had kind of a gray color. And while he sat, staring straight ahead, his eyelids kind of fell and rose, like he wanted to sleep, only his body wouldn't let him.

That very first time, I sat down at his feet, looking up at him, just like a loyal dog. And I felt that way, too. Hank had always been the leader of the pack. I looked up to him — when he was alive, I mean. He had been the older brother I never had, the idol I needed. He always had all the answers. When he was alive.

Only one time did Hank break the silence between us that first time.

"I'm cold," he said.

I hadn't realized I'd been crying, staring up at him. But I laughed when he said that.

"It's 100 degrees out here, Hank," I said. But I saw he was shivering, so I went inside to grab a blanket. Then I heard that same lightning bolt crack I heard before. When I stepped back outside, the porch was empty.

They never lasted long, his visits. He came and went with the clap of thunder (whatever that was). But while he stayed, it was like the whole damn state was holding its breath. Nothing stirred. The normally-sleepy cornstalks stood rigid, like they were afraid to make a move. Not even the damn crows in their trees made a sound.

Since talking seemed to pain him, we mainly sat there, quiet, watching as the cornfield stood at attention. I'd never felt that kinda quiet before. It made the times he spoke feel even more important.

"So many colors."

That confused me at first. Until I realized that Hank must not get to see a whole lot these days.

"You oughtta come back in autumn," I said. "when the leaves change."

"Can't," Hank said. I turned that answer over in my head for a while. But I knew what it meant. Hank would leave me again, just like before. The thought angered me.

"Why did you come back, Hank?"

My voice sounded hollow. But not as hollow as Hank's.

"I don't know."

"Well you sound pretty damn certain that you won't be here come autumn."

He didn't say anything. I was going to tell him maybe it'd be a whole hell of a lot better if he just didn't come back at all. But a crack like a bullwhip in my ear made me flinch, and Hank was gone.

Before he stopped coming around, I asked him, "What is it I'm supposed to do, Hank? There must be something, if you're here."

I was thinking of all the old stories I grew up hearing. People seeing dead relatives who told them they needed a new gravestone, or a new casket. Maybe Hank needed my help. That would be good. Then I could repay him for all the times he helped me.

"I don't think so," Hank said. "I don't know."

That was one change in Hank. He used to have all the answers when he was alive. Now, he was dead, and he didn't seem to know anything at all. He had a few memories, and sometimes a light shined in his eye when I made a joke. And I could feel the same old Hank lurking behind the shadow he'd become.

But the rest of the time, he just seemed like he wanted to be dead. And the thought made me want to cry. I wanted to scream in his face, What about me? I still need you, god damn it!

"Can't you just sit here?" Hank asked after a long silence. And that was one answer I hadn't expected. "Just sit here," he repeated, "with me, until I go for good?"

There were tears rolling down my face. Tears and sweat. Sweat from the heat that Hank couldn't even feel. I looked out at the cornfield, standing perfectly still, as though someone had pressed pause on it. But green. Alive. And the trees too, and the wildflowers, and even in the black earth where Hank would have to go.

I dried the tears from my face.

"Sure, Hank," I whispered. "I'll sit with you. If that's what you need."

I settled back in my chair, and stared out at the fields. Before the final crack rang through the air — the one that would take him away from me for good — I realized Hank was right. There were so many damn colors out there. A million different kinds. I was glad to be seeing them with my friend at my side.

— 10-27-2022

#writing prompts #writing prompt #writing practice

[x-pair-o-dice-x]

Saw you asking for prompts. Monster, House, Orphans. Do want to see some vore in this one.

hoooo boy, this one is a big guy!!!!!!! so big, in fact, that typing this out is taking five years, since tumblr is lagging so much. not even an exaggeration. so!!! gonna be splitting this up into two parts, for my own sanity.

part two can be found here!!!!

is it more logical to do prompts in the order you got them? yes. am i instead going the most recent one i got? yes. in my defense i have more ideas rn for this one than the other ones.

also the moment i saw monster and orphans in the same sentence, you know exactly who i’m gonna be making the giant.

warnings for: soft vore, mentioned child abuse and neglect, fear of death, mentioned hard vore and digestion(none happen!), dehumanization(calling a sentient being an “it”).

——————————

if anyone asked how ranboo’s day had been going, he’d say it had been pretty good.

…that is, if by pretty good, you meant going out of the house into the woods to escape his foster parent for a bit, only to get lost in said woods, accidentally fall into a rushing river he somehow didn’t notice(which the experience was made even better if you added in the fact that he couldn’t swim), get swept away by the current for what felt like, and honestly probably might have been, hours; and when he finally managed to crawl himself out of the rapids, he found himself with multiple bruises and scraps, in an area he couldn’t even hope to begin to recognize.

and that’s not even mentioning the fact that right now, it looks like it’s about to rain — as if he wasn’t soaked enough.

so yeah. great.

he’s been walking around aimlessly for a while now, trying to find something, anything, that could help him. maybe a path, a sign, a cabin in the woods, whatever. but there was nothing around but trees, as far as the eyes could see.

and…. he could almost swear the trees were bigger than they were supposed to.

..no, no they were definitely bigger than the ones he was used to seeing. uh…. maybe, it’s just…. a special kind of tree? that just.. grows really big? that seems reasonable.

a sudden crack of thunder startled him out of his thoughts — he didn’t even notice the lightning. shoot, was it going to be a thunderstorm? that’s way worse than just rain. there’s no way he’s staying out in the forest for a thunderstorm, he needs to find shelter, and fast.

ranboo looks around, before choosing a random direction, and starts speed-walking that way. he keeps his eyes on his surroundings — he’s not falling into a river again, not today!

speaking of, he’s still incredibly soaked, and incredibly cold. the storm brewing above him certainly isn’t helping that much.

it’s a couple minutes of walking — and.. is it just him, or does everything seem… bigger….. — when he thinks he sees something in the distance. he squints, only just about making it out through the trees, even with his glasses(which, can he just say, it’s a miracle he even has them, after the river), and-

that’s..

that’s a house.

that’s a house!

shelter!!!!

he laughs disbelievingly, and starts rushing his way over to it. and not a moment to soon, he can feel the rain start to drizzle through the leaves.

it’s a bit of a walk, but he’s sure he’ll make it in time before the rain really starts to pour — not that it would make much of a difference, really, but he’d like to avoid getting more wet, thank you very much.

he can’t believe his luck — being able to find a cabin however deep in these woods they are. hopefully they aren’t like, an axe-murderer or something — oh, that would really suck actually. please don’t be an axe-murderer. hopefully they’re okay with him barging in like this, because he doesn’t think there’s any other shelter nearby. maybe they’re nice, they might let him stay the night? maybe even help him find his way back to his foster’s house, afterwards? it’s not the best place to be, but it’s better than nothing.

he wonders if his foster even noticed he was gone.

he wonders if they even care.

..nope!!! nope, he’s not thinking about that!! that’s too depressing of a thought for right now. right now, he needs to focus on getting to the cabin.

…uhm.. speaking of……. shouldn’t he, be there by now?

he shook himself out of his thoughts, and refocused on the surroundings, with a closer eye. the house certainly looks closer, but.. he’s still a decent distance away.

it uh… looks kinda big, actually. like the trees.

he finds himself getting closer.

it’s…. getting.. bigger…..

he gets closer.

it gets bigger.

dread starts to fill him.

closer.

bigger.

he’s still a good.. maybe five-ish meters away, when he finally stops. the rain, while not quite steady yet, has gotten to a bit more than a drizzle now. he finds himself looking up at the cabin.

he finds himself looking……. way, way up at the cabin.

it’s bigger than any house he’s ever seen.

the door is bigger than anything he’s ever seen.

he feels like an ant staring up at it.

this…. this isn’t a normal house.

at all.

………….

…….well. at least ranboo can probably rule out the axe-murderer?

………….

yeah, no, he can’t really think of a good positive about this situation.

he flinches as he sees a light flashing, followed by a loud thundering boom a few seconds later. the rain is getting harder.

he can’t afford to stay out here.

but… can he really afford to go inside?

he looks inside the windows — or, as far inside as he really can, at this angle. the lights… look like they’re turned off? whoever lives here — and isn’t that a scary thought, that there’s someone big enough to actually live in here — might not be home right now. or, worse case scenario, they’re just asleep right now.

the ideal scenario would be that no one lives here at all, and this was just some left over prop from some movie set or something someone decided to leave in a forest in the middle of nowhere.

………he doesn’t know which one is more unlikely.

lighting flashes again, the thunder following more quickly than last time. he flinches.

…either way, he can’t see this ending out good for him.

……he.. supposes he’d rather go with the unknown of the cabin, than with the certainty of staying out in the rain and getting sick, if he hasn’t already.

luckily for ranboo, there were multiple little cracks in the wall he could crawl into — not even crawl, actually, he could just walk through them, he was so small.

as he entered, he found that things looked….. surprisingly.. normal, from what he could see.

just…….

big.

there was a counter to the far left, cutting off into another room — a kitchen, perhaps? he could see trinkets and stuff on top of the counter, and littered across the house, though he couldn’t really make himself focus on them all that much. there was a couch near his right, a small table right in front of it. and further still, right up against the wall, was a bookshelf, filled to the brim with… well.. books. there were even a couple shelves, also holding various things. he couldn’t quite see any photos from where he stood.

if it weren’t for the fact he didn’t seem any bigger than a candle, he would have thought this was a normal house.

he hears the thunder crash again, and is reminded about why he was in here to begin with.

he needs to find some place to bunker down for a bit, even if for a little bit.

should.. should he reveal himself to whoever lives here, if anyone even does?

well, maybe he can rule out the fact that no one lives here, this place does look lived in, and he can’t see any dust, so someone’s definitely been visiting this place recently, at the least.

as for that first question……. he…. doesn’t know.

there’s no guarantee they’d hurt him, but… there’s also no guarantee they wouldn’t, either. especially after in trespassing their home.

he knows other humans have hurt him for less.

ranboo doesn’t want to risk it.

the couch seems like a good starting spot to hide, for now, unless he can find somewhere better. the bookshelf might be useful, too, but it’s a bit far away from where he is right now.

though, as he’s about halfway over to the couch, he hears a sound, something that almost seems to stop his heart.

floorboards creaking.

they’re here.

instantly, he sprints the rest of the way, and almost skids to a stop under the couch — hopefully, the sound of the rain pouring down masked his footsteps.

ranboo can’t quite see whoever is here from where he stands, though he does hear the floorboards pause for a moment, before starting back up again. he lets out a breath.

they seem to be heading over to what he thinks is the kitchen — looking for a late night snack, perhaps? oh dear.. he hugs himself closer to the foot of the couch. he really, really doesn’t want to get caught if they’re hungry. granted he doesn’t really know if they eat humans, they might not! but.. he doesn’t want to take the risk, at all.

though… he is curious on what they look like. sue him, he’s never seen a giant before — and that’s what they are, aren’t they?, he thinks as he lets it fully sink in, a giant. — he never even knew they existed. forgive him for wanting to take a quick look, see if they were similar. maybe, if they looked similar enough, he might actually be safe. maybe all this giant is is just one really big human. granted, ranboo hasn’t had the best track record when it comes to people, but surely he’d have a better chance now. hopefully.

he leans a bit into the open, careful not to go out too far. he scans his eyes above the counter, trying to catch a glimpse of the giant. for a moment, he can’t quite see anything, and for a moment he wonders if they are still even in the kitchen, when suddenly, the giant comes into view, and-

he gasps suddenly, fear striking deep into his chest.

that’s not a person. that’s not a person in the slightest.

he can’t see too much, but from the ragged pink fur, the pointed ears, the scars and tusks-

it’s head shoots up, ears flickering.

shit, shit he was heard. he darts back under the couch, pushing his back against the couch leg, putting his hands over his mouth. his heart was beating fast, too fast, it felt like it was going to jump out of his chest. he could practically feel the fear radiating off of him.

how did it even hear him? the rain should have masked any sound he made.

did it just have advanced hearing? fuck, could it hear him right now, with his lungs heaving like every breath could be his last?

his heart stop when he hears slow footsteps on the wooden floor.

no, not footsteps.

hooves. those are hooves.

and they’re getting closer.

ranboo backed away from the edge of the couch as he heard the giant sniff the air — shit, is that how it knows where he is? it can smell him? that’s not good, that’s not good at all.

as he reached the middle of the couch, he saw the hooves of the beast stop, just near the spot where he was before.

suddenly, the creature leans down, and all he can see is a glowing red eye staring right at him. his breath picks up, and his heart races.

it found him.

it found him.

shit shit shit shit.

they stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, the world around him disappearing as all he can focus on is the blood red color, until the eye disappears from his sight, as the beast stands up. he can hear it grabbing the couch, and immediately, he snaps back into his body, heart working on overtime. it’s going to move the couch, it’s going to reveal him, it’s going to grab him, it’s going to-

instantly, he turns tail and runs, runs as fast as he can away from the giant. the bookshelf, that’s the only other thing he remembers seeing, the only other shelter he could access — the door was too far away, he can’t risk going there.

ranboo can hear the instance the beast realizes what he’s doing, the scrapping of the couch stopping, and the sound of hooves following in pursuit.

he’s over halfway to the bookshelf now, and he can see a small gap between the wall and the back of the shelf, just big enough for him to fit inside. hopefully, the shelf is heavy enough that it couldn’t be moved easily, granting him enough time to get a better plan.

he’s almost there now, he can hear the loud hoovesteps behind him, but he just might make it-

something wraps around him, suddenly, knocking the breath out of his lungs, and in an instant, he feels the feet leave the floor — he’s being picked up. he’s been grabbed.

he’s been caught.

“no, nono no no, nononono-” he stumbles, struggling as much as he can to get out of the grip — it burns, almost, worse than the usual burn he feels whenever he’s touched. all around him, in the grasp of the beast, it’s uncomfortable in more ways than one.

he feels as if his stomach is doing flips as he goes up, up, and up, higher off the ground, until he finds himself slowly coming to a stop.

he looks down at the wooden floor, he has to be fifty- no, eighty- a hundred feet, maybe, up in the air, he thinks with a shudder — well, he may not be too good at math, but even he knows that, no matter the exact number, there’s no way he’s surviving that fall.

and, reluctantly, he forces his eyes up at the beast who holds him in it’s grasp.

it’s terrifying.

the first thing ranboo finds himself staring at is the large scar on it’s face, over it’s left eye and sneaking over across it’s snout — the snout that, when combined with the ragged pink fur and animal-like ears, makes the giant look an awful lot like a pig. or, perhaps more like a boar, with the tusks that protrude from it’s mouth.

it’s eyes, though, it’s eyes are what truly scare him. a blood red iris, surrounded with a yellow, almost golden sclera, with pupils more akin to a snake than a human with how narrowed they were. it’s eyes were terrifying.

it’s eyes were staring down at him, staring through him, almost into his soul.

his breath hitched.

prime, he isn’t getting out of this, is he?

he shouldn’t have gone into that forest, he should have just dealt with his foster, he’s done it before, why did today have to be the exception-

“uhhhhhhhh,” the beast deadpanned. “what are you doing in my house?”

he blinked.

it.

it talks.

it.. talks.

it….. talks?

“i… what?” ranboo said hopelessly confused.

“what uh. what are you doin’ in my house?” the giant repeated itself.

okay.

okay!

it can talk, he guesses.

maybe he can reason with it. maybe he can get it to let him go.

(that is, if he knew where his conversation skills went.)

(ha, as if he ever had them to begin with.)

“it’s, uh.” ranboo said, nodding is head towards the window. “raining.”

the beast looks up briefly, though he doesn’t really think it needed to, even he can hear the sound of pouring rain from here.

“so it is.” the giant hums.

there’s a brief silence that follows. lovely. this has been a riveting conversation so far.

“that doesn’t, uh. explain why you’re here, though.” the giant says. “in the forest.”

ranboo’s shoulders hunched.

“i got lost,” he admitted. “wasn’t really looking where i was going, and fell in a river.”

the beast hummed, nodding to itself. “yeah, i suppose that’d do it.”

another moment of silence.

“i uh, don’t suppose you’d let me leave..?” ranboo asked. it might have been a bit too early to ask that, but… he really just wanted this all to be over with. everything was so overwhelming.

as the words left his mouth, the two could hear a sudden crack boom around the cabin — he swears he felt the thunder in his chest.

“…now, i don’t know about you,” the beast starts, “but i don’t think i’d want to go out right now. just a thought.”

his shoulders slumped. prime, it was right, he hated that it was right. going out right now would almost be worse than staying in here.

he hated that it didn’t even really answer his question, either. he hated how terrified that made him.

the beast seemed to analyze him again, seemingly looking for something. he didn’t like how small he felt under it’s gaze.

he didn’t like how small he was in it’s grasp, either.

“you look cold.” the beast stated suddenly. it was only then he realized he was shivering — he supposes after washing out of the river and the mess that followed after, he didn’t have the time to fully realize he was freezing.

or, well. it could be the fear that made him shake like a small wet dog. that too.

“i- well, i did fall in a river.” ranboo shrugged, as much as he could in it’s hold. “the rain didn’t exactly help me warm up, either.”

the giant hummed again, before it looked around. it’s eyes seemed to land on what he believed to be a fireplace. he can only assume that, as there didn’t actually seem to be any wood or kindling in the fireplace.

he could hear the beast mutter under it’s breath, something about how it ‘should have brought the logs inside’. no doubt the wood would be too damp to use by now.

he jumped a bit as the hand briefly held him closer to it’s chest, the beast mumbling, “could keep it close while i nap,” before shaking it’s head, putting the hand back down, “no, don’t wanna accidentally crush it in my sleep.”

it was then ranboo realized it was thinking up of ways to warm him up. a little bit of his fear dissipated at that. maybe.. it wasn’t going to hurt him? surely, if it was, it wouldn’t be trying to help him.

the beast huffed shortly, saying, “could put you in the oven, that’ll warm you up for sure.”

he froze, fear rising back up in an instant. no no, god please don’t-

“ah shit- hey hey, kid, calm down, i was kidding.” the beast brought him closer to his face, concern and a tinge of regret in it’s eyes. as he let the words sink in, his breathing slowed down, he wasn’t even aware he was hyperventilating.

oh. it.. it was a joke.

pretty bad joke, if you ask him — though, he’s certainly not gonna say that out loud.

“alright, that’s on me, shouldn’t have done that.” the beast spoke up again, now that he calmed down slightly. “my bad.”

“it’s... it’s fine.” it wasn’t, not really, but he wasn’t quite going to be honest when he was literally in it’s grasp. he already felt like he was walking on a thin line with how he broke in.

the giant went back to looking around, but unfortunately, it didn’t seem to find anything that would satisfy it.

the beast huffed again, and ranboo’s panic grew a little. what happens when it decides to just cut it’s loses in him? what happens when it decides he’s not worth the effort?

“uh- you don’t, you don’t have to do anything for me, i’ll be fine.” he hunched his shoulders, “i can- i can manage on my own, i don’t wanna be a- a bother, i can leave, i won’t- i can-”

“kid, i’m not gonna make you leave.” the beast cut him off, “it’s raining down hard out there, you could get sick. hell, you might already be sick.”

ranboo’s shoulders hunched further, but before dread could really sink into his gut, the giant continued.

“i don’t mind you staying here ‘till the rain stops, it’s not gonna be too much of a trouble. ‘sides, looks like it’s not gonna stop for a while. you really don’t wanna be out there.”

his shoulders slumped, as he looked outside again. yeah, no, it’s right, he doesn’t think he would make it even halfway out of the forest now, let alone all the way over to his foster’s house, wherever that even is.

he’s stuck in here with something a hundred times his size.

something that could kill him without even trying.

god, he wants to go home.

he doesn’t even know what home is to him, anymore.

the beast looked deep in thought again, he can only assume it was still looking for something to warm him up. it’s... nice, almost, that it was looking out for him. not a lot of people in his life actually cared for him, or his needs, beyond the bare minimum.

it was an unfamiliar feeling. he didn’t know how he felt about it.

why did this.. this giant, something out of a fairy tale, something that he barely knew for.. what, ten minutes, now? care more for him than all of the adults he met combined?

it didn’t really feel fair. why now? why, after all this time? why this?

ranboo was getting too worked up, he needed to calm down. the last thing he needed was to breakdown in the grasp of a giant beast.

..should he still be calling it a beast? it can clearly talk, and communicate. calling it an, well.. it, seems rude now, even if it was only in his head.

he looked back up at the giant, who now seemed to be staring at him with a contemplative, almost hesitant look in it’s- their eyes.

that.... that can’t be good.

“i.. have an idea, of how to warm you up.” they started. “but i don’t know if you’ll like it.”

oh, well that’s definitely not a good sign!

“wh… what is it…?” ranboo asked tentatively.

the giant paused, a look of confliction in their eyes. dread was filling in his gut again. he didn’t think he wanted to know anymore, actually, thank you very much!

“i-i’m fine, you don’t need to do anything, honestly, i’ll live! just, wrap me up in a blanket, or- or something.” ranboo stammered, trying his best to hunch into himself.

“you’re freezing to the touch, kid, there’s no way you aren't sick.” the giant said, raising him up a bit. “the blanket won’t do much if you have hypothermia.”

ranboo paused at that. he hated how the giant was right, he’s so cold that his teeth aren’t even shattering anymore, but.. why were they so hesitant about it?

“look-” the giant started, before stopping themselves. they were still for a minute, thinking about something, before sighing. “kid, you’re gonna be fine, alright? i’m not gonna hurt you. you’ll be safe, safe, ‘kay?”

well that isn’t concerning in the slightest.

“wh- what are you doing?” ranboo said, his squirming picking up again, albeit weaker than before.

the giant sighed again. “this isn’t going to go well,” they muttered under their breath, before steeling themselves, and lifting him up again. higher, higher and higher than before, closer to their face.

his squirming intensified, terror and confusion and dread rising steadily. he didn’t know what the giant was planning and that scared him.

“p-put me down, p-please-!” ranboo yelled, trying to free his arms from the grip — he can’t do it, he can’t do anything, he doesn’t know what’s happening.

“you’re gonna be okay, kid,” the giant says softly to him again, before opening their mouth wide.

that’s when he realized what was gonna happen to him.

#mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #my writing #tiny!ranboo #giant!techno #asks #vore tw #cabin in the woods au #i started this the night after i first got it; and it’s been almost a week since then dindkdbsknsksn #<< update it has now been two weeks since i got this #i started this to procrastinate on my three secret santas that i thought we’re good ideas to sign up for #and THEN i started procrastinating on this #i’m a mess /lh didnkdbsks

[loopy777]

Do you think there was ever a time that Izumi was intimidated by Zuko? Whether that was her seeing him yell at someone, or not know the full story of his scar and her friends made rumors up about it?

Hm, hard to say. My dad is a quiet dude of average height with no scary features, but I was intimidated by him as a little kid because his sneezes were super loud. Izumi might not be as much of a loser as I've always been, but we don't really know a whole lot about her.

So I'll just make a list of the things about Zuko that she might have been intimidated by as a little kid, based on my understanding of how little kids are....

Zuko's Ceremonial Winter Solstice Robes: She thinks the way they're so voluminous, with such wide shoulder-pads, is scary because her father almost disappears into them. No one actually knows why she starts crying every time she sees Zuko in them, and by the time she's old enough to explain, she's completely forgotten.

Dragons: They roar too loud for her. Baby dragons are okay, but not anything bigger than Appa. She doesn't visit the Sun Warriors much with Zuko until she is a tween and can't understand how he can be around the dragons they're raising. This suits Mai just fine, as it gives her an excuse not to go along on the trips to the nearly naked people with all the tattoos, but she tells Izumi that she's scared of their roaring, too.

Palanquin Rides: Izumi does not think they are safe and seriously wonders if Zuko is trying to kill her by insisting they have to ride them in public. As a result, the public rarely sees Izumi before she is seven and gets over it, at which point she memorably is glimpsed attempting to take a running leap off her palanquin (it seemed like fun) and subsequently is rarely seen until she is seven-and-a-half and understands what being grounded for six months feels like.

Lightning Bending: Izumi hates the noise. The crack of the thunder is audible even if Zuko is on the practice grounds and Izumi is hiding under her bed. (It's not that bad, but after she was startled by the noise the first time Zuko was showing it off to her, she's developed an irrational hatred of even the most distant echo of the noise. This does not apply to thunderstorms, for some reason.) Every time she hears it, she goes to Mai and tattles that Zuko is scaring her. This leads to Mai berating Zuko and him getting flustered because is he not supposed to practice his lightning unless Izumi is in another nation?

Zuko's Jokes: She doesn't understand that Zuko is terrible with jokes, and he seems so amused by them that she's quietly sure she's stupid and somehow not getting them. When Mai discovers this, she says, "Oh, honey, Daddy has no idea how to tell a joke. He leaves all the important bits out. Even Aang just smiles to be polite, and Auntie Ty Lee will laugh at anything after she's had enough grown-up grape juice. You like Toph's jokes, right? Then you're fine."

Zuko's Chest-Scar: She's not intimidated by his facial scar, since she's been seeing it since she was born, but she's a bit freaked out by seeing the scar on his chest from where Azula hit him with lightning. She wants to know why his boo-boo isn't getting better. She's surprised when she's told it's like the scar on his face, because that's obviously not true, that's how he looks, but the scar on his chest is a boo-boo and that's different. Izumi informs Zuko that she needs to keep his shirt on so that his boo-boo can get better. This one really confounds Mai, until she eventually hits on the idea of explaining that Katara was supposed to fix that boo-boo and didn't do a very good job, but they shouldn't mention it because Katara feels very bad about it and they don't want to make her sad. When she's older, Izumi is scandalized to remember this, and makes Mai apologize to Katara, who has no idea what they're talking about.

As for Zuko yelling at someone, I think I'm going to say no. I figure Zuko yells so much that she gets used to that, too; his voice isn't particularly booming or resonant, so it's not an intimidating sound by itself, and she's seen Zuko yell at Aang and Sokka and Toph without them getting so much as ruffled. In fact, Sokka teaches Izumi to say, "Daddy, use your sweety voice. Yelling is mean." As an adult, she credits this as one of her first and most important lessons in diplomacy.

#zumai #avatar maiko #avatar izumi #lok izumi #zuko

[nightwishesworld]

hello! do you think you could do a chapter with fem!reader whose afraid of thunderstorms and wakes up in the middle of the night because of it but doesn’t wanna wake alcina so she just stays awake but the storm goes on for like a week and this keeps happening until she notices and comforts you through it by like cuddles or talking you to sleep to distract you from it :)

Oh my god I hate the way this came out. My brain just could not process this for some reason. I also couldn't make it as long as a week, my apologies.

**************

One dark evening at Castle Dimitrescu a storm rolled in. Relatively speaking, it was quite harmless and most of the inhabitants of the castle were unbothered by the storm.

Except you.

Late into the evening, whilst most were asleep, the storm was at its strongest - the crackle of thunder rolling through the halls as flashes of lightning illuminated the darkest corners of the room. You were trying to sleep, honest, but just as you felt the drowsiness of rest come to take you - a loud crack of thunder would jolt you awake and paralyze you with fear.

You sat with your back against the headboard, your breathing rapid.

You pulled the covers up to your chest and hugged your pillow close to your chest. Resisting the urge to run and hide in the closet like you used to do as a kid was becoming more and more difficult.

Another flash, another boom.

You knew it wasn’t logical, but you couldn’t stop yourself from flinching or jumping as the sounds of the storm roared outside. It was just so loud and you could swear the castle was shaking with it.

You squeezed your eyes shut, white-knuckling the pillow held tight against your chest and humming a song to yourself in order to distract your brain.

The sound of constant rain was suddenly accompanied by heavy hail falling, and that’s when the thoughts started charging at you full force.

What if the lightning strikes the castle? What if the castle collapsed? Did it have the right infrastructure? What if-

“Stop it, God. Stop it!” You begged your brain but to no avail. Your mind kept generously providing you with possibilities and images you did not ask for.

Another loud boom and this time you couldn’t help the cry let out before clapping a hand over your mouth and diving under the blankets.

When you didn’t hear anything for a few minutes you felt it safe enough to come out of hiding. Thankfully the vampire slumbering next to you wasn’t disturbed by your pathetic cries and whimpers. She had a rough day dealing with a very pissed off Mother Miranda and needed rest and relaxation as much as she could possibly get.

You forced yourself to lay still on your back and focus all your energy on controlling your breathing. That was the key to saving yourself a panic attack. You don’t know how long you were staring up at the ceiling, but dawn eventually came and your partner stirred from her sleep.

She would have been happy to see you if not for the redness in your eyes and puffiness surrounding them, obvious signs of lack of sleep.

“Are you alright, draga mea?” She wrapped her arms around your midsection and rested her head on your shoulder, kissing your cheek.

You didn’t answer, even though you knew Alcina wouldn’t just drop the question. She was sweet and caring like that, which is probably why you never had the heart to tell her how much of a coward you actually are.

“You didn’t sleep very well, did you?”

“Nightmares,” you rasped, trying to focus on Alcina more than the low rumbling outside. “I’ll be fine after a cup of coffee.”

She looked as though she didn’t accept that answer but quickly hid any doubts behind a warm smile. “If you’re sure.”

It felt wrong lying to her. You had never felt the need to hide anything from Alcina before, but this was just embarrassing. She’d probably laugh at you told her you were still afraid of thunderstorms.

The day progressed with relative normalcy despite the occasional sounds of rumbling. Alcina busied herself dealing with the mountain of paperwork on her desk for Mother Miranda and the girls were running amuck in the basement. Depending on which room you were in you could hear their laughter below you. Their mischief down there has always been a mystery to you, even now after living in the castle a couple of years. You knew what they were doing, but couldn't fathom the idea of enjoying it so much. You did find it rather disturbing that their torturing frightened you less than a stupid thunderstorm.

You huddled in the back section of the library behind the bookshelves so you couldn’t see the lightning out the windows. The loud rumbling still had you on edge, but a good book is always a welcome distraction. It worked so well, that you didn't hear Daniela approaching. You practically jumped three feet in the air when she was stood in front of you.

“What’s wrong with you?” Daniela asked, her voice was stern, but it also had a concerning tone to it. She had dropped her bag, keeping the knife at her side. Your breathing was heavier than usual as you tried to think of what to say. It was more than embarrassing to tell Daniela the truth. You knew for a fact she out of everyone in the castle would laugh at you. "You scared me,"

She rolled her eyes. "No, Dummy, I mean what's really wrong?"

You shrug and turn the page of your book. “Nothing.”

Another boom. You couldn’t fight off flinched.

“Oh, I think I get it. You’re afraid of-”

“Don’t tell anyone.” You clenched your fists, shutting your eyes tightly. Daniela wanted to laugh, but she didn’t. You watched as she cautiously sat back down. The redhead sat in front of you, the rain somehow sounding even louder than it had before. You looked over at Daniela, feeling the embarrassment creep upon you.

Daniela started at you with a rather confused expression, resting her arms on her knees. “Out of everything we’ve been through,” she began, “everything you’ve seen us do. Everything that goes on in this castle just below your feet,” she paused. “And you’re scared of thunder?”

You sat silently and twiddled your thumbs.

“Why?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you whisper. “It’s not important. You’re only going to run off and tell everyone.”

Daniela rolled her eyes and picked up her bag, headed once again for the basement. “Whatever, y/n, have it your way.”

You spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening shuffling around the library hiding from the white flashes. It was only when Daniela came to fetch you for dinner that you left. Luckily you were eating in the kitchen instead of the larger Dining Hall. The kitchen is much more manageable; marginally fewer windows to see the lightning. The meal carried on as it normally would; the girls boasted about their successes in the basement, Alcina discusses all the work she got done today and complains about the work she put off for tomorrow. It was almost enough to take your mind off the chaos happening just outside the windows. Almost.

The storm carried on just as confidently throughout the evening and into the night. It showed no signs of relenting, which in turn meant another sleepless night.

You wasted no time stripping your clothes and crawling into bed, back to the open windows. Alcina didn’t think much of it, simply chalking it up to being exhausted from the previous night’s lack of sleep. She wasn’t completely wrong, you did feel like you were ready to sleep for the next 24 hours. But you knew the storm wouldn’t allow you that luxury.

Pressure against your back and an arm wrapping around your midsection snapped you out of your thoughts.

“I hope you sleep tonight, my love.”

“Me too.”

An hour later and you were still wide awake listening to the rain being pelted against the windows. An anxious voice whispered impossible scenarios of the rain breaking through the windows and lightning striking you down in the safety of your bed. You tried your hardest to not toss and turn as to not disturb the woman next to you. She's not asleep yet, you can tell by the lack of snoring, but her breathing is starting to even out. You were curled up on your side, back to Alcina. She wrapped you in her arms, her chest against your back and arm across your waist. "Dove..." she whispered in your ear. "Y/n... "

"I'm sleeping, Al." You murmured snuggling further into the vampire’s arms, your eyes still closed.

"No, you're not." She stroked your side absently. “Are you sure you’re ok? You aren’t falling ill are you?”

You sigh. “No, I’m not getting sick. My body is just too exhausted to relax.”

Alcina hummed, burrowing her face in the crook of your neck. “I’ll stay up with you for a while.”

“You will not. Go to sleep Al, I’ll be fine. You had a long day yourself, one of us should be able to sleep."

"Why don't we go sit in the Drawing Room or the Library? I'll hold you in my lap and read to you." God no. Way too many windows. "Goodnight, Alcina." You feel her sigh against your skin, pushing a few stray hairs around. "Can I do anything?" "Stop worrying, it's just insomnia." "I'll stay up with you then. You shouldn't be up all by yourself staring at the ceiling." "I'm not alone, Love, you're right here with me. Asleep or not I'm still in your arms, and that helps a lot." You feel her smile against your neck and pull you closer against her front. "wake me if you need anything."

You actually slept fairly well; only waking up a few times to have Alcina soothe you back to sleep. Being tucked away in her embrace did a world of help, but you still woke up hours before Alcina did. Her eyes fluttered open and focus on your groggy face. She frowns.

"Did you sleep at all?"

You smile and kiss her lips. "Yes, I actually slept a lot better last night than before."

"Good," she pulls you back to kiss you again.

*******************************************************************************************

Later in the afternoon Bela and Cassandra invited (dragged you really) into the Drawing Room to play a game of cards.

Everything was going really well. You were laughing and playing with the girls like everything was as it should be in Castle Dimitrescu.

You were made astutely aware of the situation outside again when a loud crack of thunder shook the castle. There was another flash and clap of thunder, this time loud enough to make Cassandra flinch.

You abruptly shot up from the table. “Sorry. I need a minute.” You rushed down the hall into one of the guest rooms. Cassandra and Bela shared a confused glance and watched as you hurried away. They’d never seen you so flighty and nervous before. Neither could tell what was wrong.

They laid on the carpet and silently counted to sixty before following you to down the corridor.

“Y/n?” Bela softly knocked on the door. “It’s been a minute.”

There was no response. More thunder. Bela frowned. “We’re coming in, okay?”

She opened the door a crack and poked her head inside. You were nowhere to be seen. “Y/n?” Cassandra called, stepping further inside and glancing around the room. The sisters checked under the bed, then under the covers, even under the shade of the bedside lamp. Then Bela peered out of the rain-soaked window for good measure. Where else could you be?

Just as Cassandra decided she was stumped, she heard a rustling from behind her and a muffled, “I’m in here.” She turned around in confusion because the only place they hadn’t checked in that direction was…

They crept over to the closet and carefully slid open the door. The girls smiled when they found you sitting on the ground, curled up with your head between your knees. “Playing hide and seek now, are we?” Bela said. “Next round I call being the— um, y/n?”

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, staying right where you were. “Sorry.”

“S-Sorry for what…?” Cassandra crouched down beside you. The closet almost had enough space for the three of you to fit.

“Y/n, please. Something’s obviously bothering you, can’t you tell us?”

All three of you startled as another flash of lightning cut into the room, followed by another growl of thunder. You tightened your grip around your legs. Bela’s jaw dropped.

“It’s the storm,” she said, half a question, half a statement. “You’re scared of thunder?”

“It’s childish.”

“Oh, y/n…”

“I’m weak. Something as dumb and simple as loud noises shouldn’t make me so—”

“Y/n. Look at me.” Cassandra’s gently stern tone convinced you to move your head so your chin rested on your knees. You side-eyed the girls, trying to imitate your usual stoicism. It was difficult with red-rimmed eyes.

“A phobia doesn’t make you childish, or weak— do you know how many people have a fear of thunder, y/n? A lot of humans.”

“A lot of Uncle Heisenberg’s lycans as well,” Bela chimed in.

“And are you going to go around insulting them? No, Y/n, because that’s not nice. So don’t insult yourself for the same thing.” Cassandra waved around her index finger as she spoke. Your eyes widened and followed the movement. Both girls laughed.

“Is that what’s been giving you nightmares?”

You shake your head. “I just haven’t been sleeping; too tense.”

Cassandra giggled. “Just ask mother for extra cuddles, not like she’ll say no.”

“Or a more intimate distraction,” Bela winked.

Both sisters giggle at the blush creeping on your cheeks.

“Can we sit here with you?” Bela asked, already taking the vacant spot on your right.

You shrugged— as much as you could in this balled-up position. “You don’t have to.”

“It’s ok y/n, we don’t mind.”

They sat on either side of you, Bela holding your hand, enjoying the comfortable silence that cast over you.

*******************************************************************************************

A loud crack of thunder jolted Alcina awake. Cursing to herself she eyed the clock across the room–2:06 am. Raking a hand down her face, she jolted again when another crack of thunder echoed through the castle. It wasn’t a minute later that an insistent downpour of rain started pelting the roof and windows followed by an angry howling of the wind. You stirred next to her in the bed. You were mumbling in what sounded like a mix of Romanian and English. Alcina swallowed thickly because she knew what that meant; another night terror. She laid back down and curled herself against you, cocooning herself against your back. Alcina placed a few stray kisses on your shoulders and the nape of your neck, smoothing her hands along your hipbone in the process. You calmed after a few minutes, your mumbling returning to the steadying breaths of deep sleep. Alcina sighed in relief and closed her eyes in hopes that she could drift back to sleep.

KRAK-OOOOOM!

Alcina sat up on the bed and saw you still appeared to be sleeping, though you looked somewhat agitated. She reached over and attempted to run her fingers through your hair but all that succeeded in doing was causing you to jolt awake.

You woke up with a strangled yell and starting crawling out from underneath the sheets. You sat with your back against the headboard, your breathing and heart rate rapid. Alcina crawled over and realized you were having a panic attack. “Y/n, can you hear me?” You nodded, your eyes squeezed shut as tears started leaking from the corners. You clamped a hand over your mouth, and Alcina realized you were trying to silence your breathing. “Honey no, don’t do that, just focus on me,” she pulled your hand away from your mouth slowly. You shook your head and tried to take your hand back. “No no no... I can’t- I-I-I can’t wake Al-Alcina,” you gasped. “It’s alright, Dove, just follow my breathing.” Alcina took exaggerated breaths to demonstrate. You started calming down slightly. “That’s it, everything is alright, just keep breathing.” You seemed to calm down more with the breathing exercises. “I’m going to get you a glass of water“ Alcina started to say, but was cut off by you grabbing her arm. “No! Don’t-don’t lea- don’t leave, please, don’t- don’t” you closed her eyes, her breath quickening again. “Sweetheart, breathe with me. In, out. In, out.” Alcina took your hand and put it on her chest. “Breathe with me. In, out. In, out.” Your breathing returned to normal. After sitting in silence for a bit, Alcina turned to her.

“Another night terror?” She asked. You looked away for a minute, ashamed of yourself.

“No.”

God, you probably woke her up, good job.

Alcina couldn’t keep an amused smile from forming. “Can my little dove not sleep because of the thunderstorm?”

As if on cue, a blinding bolt of lightning crackled down from the sky. The following rumble of thunder seemed to shake the castle. You let out a whimper and shielded yourself from the sky. “How could I possibly sleep when it sounds like the sky is falling?!”

Alcina hums and pulls you close against her. “There’s nothing wrong with a healthy fear, Dove. It brings out the human in you.”

“UGH! Just-!”

KRAK-OOOOOM!

Another shriek, barely muffled by Alcina’s shoulder, had you violently trembling. You were barely holding yourself together.

Wracked with terror, eyes shut tightly, you found yourself unable to prevent the reflexive compulsion to cling to something nearby.

Which, in this case, was Alcina, who was left staring in shocked silence at the violently trembling form with arms wrapped tightly around her midsection. She immediately wrapped her arms around you again and began rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“Calm down. You’re fine,” She spoke softly, ignoring the buzz under her skin as she soaked in the unwitting embrace like a dry sponge in water. Soothingly, she rubbed up to your shoulder blades. “There we are, my love,” Alcina chuckled. “I’ve got you. Listen to my voice,” She rumbled, speaking soft but firm as the thunder forced smaller tremors through the floor. “You’re going to relax. I’m going to help you. Just lay here with me and close your eyes. I’ll hold you all night if you want me to.”

Gradually, the sound faded and petered off back into the loud patter of rain against the windows but Alcina held you tightly still. She could feel the flutter of your heartbeat against her own, almost impressed that you hadn’t passed out from fear alone.

“Why didn’t you say anything? The storm’s been going on for days now you must have been petrified.”

“I didn’t want you to know,” you mumbled into her neck. “It’s a pathetic fear I’ve had since I was a kid. I don’t want you to think less of me.”

“You think something as trivial as a phobia would make me think less of you?” She pulled you even tighter against her. You melted into her embrace. “Clearly I haven’t been a very good partner to you.”

“No Al, it’s not like that. Gods, you’re an amazing partner. It’s just my stupid insecurities. You’re all so fearless and brave. You’re not afraid of anything, and then there’s me; tiny, inferior, afraid of a little thunderstorm.”

She sighed and continued rubbing circles on your back. “I’m not fearless.”

“Yeah right,” you scoff. “What could the great and powerful Alcina Dimitrescu possibly be afraid of?”

“Death.”

You wriggled out of her arms just enough to turn and face her. “What? But, you’re immortal. Death isn’t really something you have to worry about.”

She gave a small smile and brought a hand to cup your face. “I never said my death, sweet one.”

Oh...OH

“The girls are clever, they can get themselves out of most situations unscathed, but still, we can be slain. And there have been some pretty close calls in the past. And you,” she rubbed gentle circles on your cheek. “Your death is inevitable. It gnaws at the back of my mind every time I look at you. Every time morning I have to untangle myself from your embrace I remember that one day I’ll wake up alone and wish I cuddled with you for just a bit longer."

"Al, I didn't-"

"I can't always be there to protect you, including the girls. If I could take the brunt of all conflict for you I would gladly do so, but that's unfortunately not how life works. I'm just left worrying until I know for sure you're all safe."

She hummed into your neck and kissed your pulse point. "How selfish of me, I'm supposed to be comforting you, not the other way around. If I paid more attention I would have known, I’m sorry, my love.”

“Don’t apologize, just hold me.”

Alcina kissed the top of your head. “With pleasure.”

Soon enough you did fall asleep again, your arms still clinging tight around the vampire’s upper midsection. Alcina found a comfortable enough position and allowed herself to drift away as well.

#lady dimitrescu x reader #lady Alcina #tall vampire lady #alcina dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #resident evil #resident evil village #resident evil 8

[pseudospectre]

A Ghost Story

It was even better in person.

Walking up the cracked old sidewalk, the little white farmhouse I was here to see came into view, and I had never wanted anything so badly in my life. The realtor was waiting for me on the tiny sagging porch trying to look perky. "Hi! I'm Rhonda, are you ready to take a look around?"

I shook her offered hand and nodded. "Absolutely. Do you know anything about it? There wasn't much in the listing."

She unlocked the door and led us inside the dark front hall, fumbling for a light switch. Her voice remained chipper as she launched into her presentation. "Well! It was originally built in 1898, and you can see that most of the original features remain. All the woodwork, flooring, window trim...it's really got a lot of charm! And it's nice and small, perfect for someone just starting! The furnace, electrical, and roof were all upgraded by the last owner..." I stopped listening, happy to just wander through the few rooms and admire the old building. It really seemed to be in very good shape for being so far outside of town, and it wasn't much bigger than many apartments I'd looked at closer to work; but crucially, this little place would be cheaper than anywhere I could rent, and it would be mine. The farm town it was in wasn't close to much, but the highway was near enough that the commute would be reasonable.

"Wow..it really does sound great. I can't see much wrong with it though, for the price...it's not haunted or something, is it?" I joked. But to my surprise, her sales pitch demeanor instantly fell, and she just looked tired.

"Who told you."

"What, really?" I laughed, thinking maybe she was joking. Surely the one trying to make a sale like this wouldn't seriously tell someone there's ghosts. But she sighed.

"I was hoping it wouldn't come up, but that's why it's being sold again. The last several owners have all moved out within two years, and I've been told hearing noises and footsteps at all hours is a main reason. Apparently a little boy died here in the late thirties, just an accident, I think he fell out of a tree? The parents ended up splitting and the father lived here until his own death in the 80s, it sat vacant for a while before finally selling, and from then on it's gone through several hands and periods of vacancy. I personally find it ridiculous, but perhaps you will finally be the first sane person to want it. It is, in my opinion, in very good shape for its age and history, and for the price...?" She looked at me, hopeful.

"So what you're telling me is, it comes with a roommate that won't even help with utilities?" I tried to look serious but couldn't keep it up, and laughed again. "You hear that, kid? If you're sticking around, there's gonna be some rules around here." I grinned at the realtor. "I really do love the place. What do I need to do to put in an offer?" Rhonda smiled, and started pulling out paperwork.

------------------

Closing took longer than I expected, but soon enough I had a handful of shiny old keys and a little white haunted farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. My family told me I was crazy to move "all the way out to hicksville," but move I did, until the place finally started to look like a home. And as I moved things in, and cleaned, and painted, I would talk to the supposed ghost, mostly for fun. When the house settled at night, I'd sternly inform him it was after curfew, or that he's making me miss my beauty sleep. All in all, though, I rarely heard anything that I couldn't immediately attribute to the quirks of an old house. Every now and then, I'd hear rattling or scraping, but old country houses have mice, it's almost impossible to avoid. I did have a pest guy come look just in case, but if scratching and tapping was the worst my ghost could do, I could live with it and be happy.

I couldn't understand how the procession of previous owners hadn't been able to feel how comfortable and welcoming the place was; I could sit on the porch looking down the narrow asphalt road, listening to the birds and the wind and the droning insects with a patch of woods to one side and endless fields spilling out to the horizon on the other. And even as the seasons started to change, the house, with its well pump that liked to short out now and then and the somewhat uncertain electricity, was beautiful to me. Me and my ghost and my little haunted house.

A sudden late summer storm on evening put some of those feelings to the test-the power had gone out twice so far, and the cellar was prone to take on water when it rained hard enough, which it was definitely doing. I had found some old white candles wrapped in what was probably forty year old newspaper stuffed in a kitchen drawer I had somehow never opened til now. It was getting dark, and it turns out I don't own a flashlight. My cell phone would only go so far if the lights went out again...and then of course, they did.

And the noises started.

At first, I barely noticed over the rain and wind literally rattling the windows. But soon enough, it was definitely distinct from the storm sounds. "Hey, buddy, everything ok? Are you afraid of storms?" By now I was pretty solidly in the habit of talking to my ghost; it even helped with my own anxiety. "You don't have to be scared, come sit in the room with me, we'll wait for it to finish together." I lit one of the emergency candles in the living room, just to have another source of light. The dragging and thumping sounds were even louder now, with strange, shrill noises added. I can't explain why they were making me afraid; I love storms usually, but something about this one, alone in the dark and with something unknown here with me, making noises, was activating my fight-or-flight response.

And then lightning flashed through the window along with the gunshot sound of thunder directly overhead, and I screamed. And then I broke down laughing after seeing the tree branches thrashing the side of the house in the lightning flash. The noises were just from the tree. How stupid, stupid that I'd never thought of that! With that realization, my anxious mood broke. "Come on, kid, let's go to bed, huh? You're not allowed to tell anyone how dumb I am though, ok?" I made a mental note to get any fallen branches cleaned up from the yard in the morning, and went to bed.

The next morning, standing on the porch to check out the aftermath, it occurred to me why I hadn't thought of the tree as I stared at the old, rotten stump of an oak tree outside the front window-cut down decades ago.

#ghost story #short story #original fiction #mine #written bits #midwest gothic #Midwestern gothic #region gothic

[whump-a-la-mode]

more comfort for magician assistant villain please? continuation of that one

Yeah! Of course. Thank you so much!

There’s comfort here just. You gotta squint. Also a dog so its comfort for you guys.

Continuation from here.

CW//Nightmare sequence, scopophobia, stagefright, dehumanization, pet whump, compared to an animal, trauma (soooo much trauma), regretting escape, positive thoughts towards whumper

The laughter of the audience cracked the air like thunder-- shaking the very oxygen with its cacophonous uproar.

Usually, Villain did not join in with the din of the audience, but now, they had no choice. The screams falling from their mouth were not of their own control.

At the very least, their terror made them feel as though there was no control to be had over their own desperate howling. Nor was there any control they could manifest over the quaking shivers that rippled through their body like a disturbed lake’s surface.

No. They had no control, no control at all. Because they were in their kennel.

Hero had found out. Villain knew not how, but they had found out. They knew the terror that the tiny steel box struck through them-- and they found it to be nothing but positively hilarious.

“We’ll just have to abandon our old act.” They’d smirked. “We have something much more entertaining, now.”

A new act. Being wheeled onto the stage in a covered crate, presented like a meal to be feasted upon. And, when the cover was torn away, the laughter began.

Their mitted hands slammed in desperation against the bars, but they did not so much as budge. The solid steel construction was as sturdy as it was minuscule. There was no room to turn around, hardly room to breathe. They couldn’t hide from the thousands of staring eyes, the blaring lights, the screams and the uproar. Even as they shrieked themself, pleaded, pleaded for their kennel to be covered once more, their words were treated as only the comedy act’s cherry on top.

And, beside the cage, Hero drank in the glory. They were speaking, words sizzling through the air as lightning strikes and eclairs, but their words were nothing but noise to their captive.

Because dogs did not speak.

They wanted so desperately to leave, to hide, to curl up in the corner of their cell and sob until the world fell away. But there was no cell. There never had been.

There was nothing. Nothing beyond the stage.

“Come here, buddy. Good boy, c’mere.”

Villain head swiveled on its axis, though the tight confines tried to prevent even as a movement so small. The noise, where was it coming from? It wasn’t Hero’s voice. And how could they be expected to come when they were kenneled?

Were they planning to punish them for failing an impossible task?

It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Good dog! Good dog.”

The words made Villain’s mouth grow dry, tongue sticking to the roof of it. Good dog, good dog, good dog...

“Good boy, Hydro!”

At once, the stage lights blinked out. The audience’s shouts too disappeared, though they clung on in the form of ringing in Villain’s ears.

They could breathe. The kennel was letting them breathe.

They couldn’t feel its walls. Where was the kennel? Where was the stage? Where were they?

A single blink, and the world of the show fell away, replaced by hues of blue and off-white, and the feeling of fleece on their skin.

Where were they? Their vision at last agreed to refocus, though it showed them little more than the remnants of a repaired popcorn ceiling. In an instant, however, that too was blocked out by the shadow of a human figure.

“Oh- Good morning. I didn’t realize you’d be waking up quite so soon.”

It wasn’t Hero. Hero would never say good morning. Not to a dog.

“Wh....” They managed, though the scratchiness of their throat made the noise come out as more of a grovel.

“Hey, hun, they’re waking up.”

“Oh, okay.”

With the trodding of footsteps, the owner of the second voice soon emerged. That voice was familiar, somehow, though it did not make them shake like the voices of most of the heroes did.

Villain blinked, once, then twice, until the figures above them became solid. Two people. Two strangers. Neither wore uniforms of any sort, nor any insignias. Not even nametags...

“It’s good to see you awake again.” The second stranger spoke, tone soft.

“How are you feeling?”

Who in the world were these people? They certainly weren’t heroes.

“Mmm... hurts.”

“You got thrown through a river for, like, two miles.” The first stranger commented. “I’m not surprised that it hurts. I have no idea how you didn’t drown.”

A river. The river. The fence. They’d fallen off, because of the gas, and-

Villain jolted upright, only then noticing that they had been lying down at all. Their head spun, but willpower kept them conscious.

A living room. A house, complete with DIY wall decor and an honest mess. It was small. Cozy.

Civilian.

And-

Bark!

The noise made them jump halfway out of their own skin, gaze swiveling to the source.

A dog, in the middle of the room. A real dog, fur and lolling tongue and all. Some kind of retriever, they thought, pelt woven with hues of cream and gold.

“Now, you are going to show me just how well you can obey-- or I will have your stay here extended until, when I take out that gag, you bark. Got that?”

A shiver tore through Villain’s spine.

“I guess we should probably introduce ourselves.” The second stranger began, casting a glance back at the golden-furred animal. “Um, this is our place, by the way.”

“Oh.” Villain murmured, struggling to focus their gaze on the person speaking.

“My name’s Spouse.”

“I’m, um-”

The two figures shared a glance.

“You can call me Civilian. It’s nice to meet you, even though I’m sure this is... a little weird.”

“Mmm.” Villain struggled to hum in agreement. “Where...”

“Well,” Spouse began. “I was just out walking Hydro, that’s the dog, and I kinda found you on the river bank? I don’t know if  you remember that. Anyways, you said not to call emergency services, and I didn’t know what to do, so...”

“I’m a doctor. Kind of. I’m a resident. So we figured we could try to help.” Civilian added. “It’s not a lot, but... You’re alive.”

“Yea....”

“Spouse?” The figure looked to their partner. “I think Hydro is scaring them. Could you take him outside a sec?”

“Yeah, ‘course.” The other nodded, moving to another part of the building. With a click of their tongue, the animal followed them, tags dangling from its-

Collar.

"Good. Now, good dogs don't need to be dragged. Heel."

Villain’s hand jolted to their neck, feeling the cold of their mitts directly on their skin.

Their collar was gone.

But the mitts...

“I didn’t know if you wanted those off or not.” Civilian spoke, now that their partner had left. “Do you?”

Their gaze cast downwards. The leather was torn and pockmarked, now, but still holding up. Still restraining...

Villain scanned the room.

In the corner, a wire kennel sat. Larger than their own, with its base laden with blankets and plush toys. In another room, its floor made of tile, a pair of bowls sat. Near the couch, a hair-covered dog bed lay.

There was a dog here, too. But it behaved.

And, for that, it was adored.

A shiver ran through them, once more. But this one did not originate from fear.

They’d run from their owner. Their owner who cared about them!

Oh, god. They’d made a terrible mistake. And, why was their head so foggy?

“No. Um, they can... they can stay on.”

“Okay.” Civilian shrugged. “You sound like crap- no offense. Um, I think I’m gonna go grab some water. You want some water?”

“Please.”

“Alright. Just hold still for me, okay?”

“‘K.”

Yet, despite their promise of remaining in place, they could not manage it-- their bones were made of lead, and their head somehow wrought of something even heavier.  Like a stone to a river, they fell back onto the couch, feeling as though they were melting into the plush.

But unconsciousness did not claim them. Not immediately.

Before it did, they heard the words of Civilian, as they moved towards the kitchen:

“Damn, I wish Hero would stop using those gas guns.”

#magicians assistant #hero villain whump #hero whumper #villain whumpee #whump #pet whump #pet whumpee

[heliosthegriffin]

Before Beacon

AN: I wrote this well over a year ago, I might as well post this now or never, so now. It was going to be a series about cracky scenarios Jaune or other character go into before beacon.

Title: Before Beacon

Summary: We know alot about team RWBY before they attended Beacon, more or less, but not so much for other characters… Like Jaune, yes Jaune, we only know that he has like seven sisters, not much else like at all. I intend to rectify that. Eh, maybe some other characters like Nora and Ren, maybe others too. 

Warning: 98% distilled crack.

Characters: Jaune Arc, OC’s, Nora and, Ren.

Chapter One: Rival or Nemesis?

Time: August 1, 79 AVT *After Vytal Treaty* ... Approximately one year before Beacon

The evening was wet and humid as Jaune rode his bicycle to his new apartment. He made sure to carefully control his bike through the agricultural district to avoid any stray puddles on the ground from the days lingering summer showers, what his grandfather used to call summer’s last breath. He thought his grandfather had a bad naming sense, too cliched, but it had stuck with him.

The rain had started coming down heavily as soon the young man left his work, coming down in unusually cold sheets that nearly forced him to the ground. Vicious winds that forced him to hunker down against a nearby wall with his bike, thunder and lightning tore across the sky like the voice of angry giants. The only solace the youth could take was that there was no hail coming down.

A dreadful feeling filled his being as he waited out the storm, a feeling that today was going to get so much worse. Like that, if he thought to hide pitifully, and shaking from that freak storm was bad and coming out utterly drenched and cold was bad, he had another thing coming.

But like all storms they come and then they go, this one was no exception. Leaving only a slightly overcast sky, and chilling breeze. Jaune could only sigh in relief and then shiver heavily, drawing his gaze to his soaking clothes. He wanted to sigh again, but didn’t have the energy and merely shook his head at his poor luck. This was the life he had chosen.

Dropping out of school, getting his GED, Emancipating himself from his parents, leaving home, getting insurance, somehow getting a job that would support himself financially, keep himself in decent shape, and provided on-site training, he’s had a busy summer. But he had done it all and then some to pursue his dream.

To become a hunter and to help people, the weak, the weary and powerless. He’s felt all those things in his life and hates the idea of others suffering. Sure he could become any number of things to help people, things that wouldn’t get him killed. Like becoming a doctor or scientist, and likely to succeed too, I mean did you see the number of things he got accomplished in two months?

Well, sure he could have done that, but to be honest those are not the only reasons he is trying to sneak his way into Beacon… Jaune also happens to be one of the Vale's biggest thrill-seekers and an adrenaline junkie. Oh, and a slight pervert.

See the way Jaune sees it, being a hunter includes several very attractive perks. 

One, constant danger and challenge.

Two, hot babes. He has never seen an ugly or out of shape huntress.

Three, great benefits. I mean the job pays at least six digits every year.

Come on, the chance to help people plus all that just sucked him in like a vortex.

So while he is a good person at heart looking to help people, he’s also a thrill-seeking anarchist and deviant. I mean would a normal person seek to go fight monsters for fun and a chance to ogle hot girls? Maybe. But would they also break several laws, involving forgery, many different kinds of theft, hacking, several convoluted laws involving hunters, and arson? Maybe not.

Anyway, Jaune’s a mixed bag, back to the weather.

So as Jaune was riding toward his apartment the little sociopath was taking comfort in that his baggy hoodie with the cute little bunny was drying up, why his boss insists that he wears it on the job at all times bewildered him but it was a mystery he was thankful for, as it is super comfortable. Good enough that he never wore a shirt underneath, the boss also insisted that he didn’t do that either oddly enough; another mystery that he didn’t care to solve.

The breeze had changed from a biting and harsh wind to a more pleasant, gentle summer breeze that made him feel fine. The evening sun broke through the overcast sky and cast warm orange light on Jaune filling him with warmth and energy. Pushing out the sense of foreboding that had come to hang over him. Pulling into him a peaceful, warm, and relaxed state of mind.

He was only a block away from his apartment and pulled onto the sidewalk. It felt like nothing could go wrong. Predictably, this is where things went wrong as Jaune hit the guy walking out of the convenience store with his bike so hard that he flew off the ground at Mach speed, went through the nearby brick wall and into the alley behind it.

So caught up in his sense of peace, that he didn’t even realize he was about to hit the poor sap till he saw a panicked green eye peering at him from beneath a hood.

Jaune rode a couple of feet further on his bike till he stopped out of shock. He had never hit a person with a bike before. I mean he hit several people with various objects before, sometimes his fists too (mama didn’t raise any pussies), usually it was his family or someone who never saw him without his hoodie on, but to be fair he seldom took his hoodie off.

So Jaune sat there stunned on his bike and then began to contemplate what to do. He left his scroll at home to charge, so calling an ambulance was out of the question. He looked inside the store to see if they had a phone, but the cashier pulled out a shotgun from behind the counter and looked between them. Jaune wisely chose to move out of the man's line of sight and fire.

Left with only three choices, one of them was to ride away into the sunset and leave this mess behind, which was tossed out since his sense of morality had him by the throat. So, left with two choices Jaune rode his bike through the hole in the wall he helped make.

So putting his bike against the wall Jaune walked over and went to check the man’s pulse. Jaune stopped once he got a good look at the man and decided to go with choice number two.

Curb stomp their head into oblivion. Raising his foot over the bastard's head with a very manly, and not at all girly, warcry he dropped it like a hammer.

His foot was caught mere inches from hitting the downed man's face, though he was straining from the force. Green eyes peeked up from the hood to look at the Arc, and he could tell they were smirking at him.

“So you could tell it was a ploy to lower your guard all along, Jaune of the Sandbox.” Said a raspy, cold voice from inside the hood.

“Those days are long behind me, Verdant of the Swings,” Arc said letting his weight drop off his right foot so that he was falling, and used it to swing his foot like a club horizontally at, the man is now known as Verdants clothed temple.

Sensing the blow Verdant pulled Jaune up into the air with the strength of his arms, core and back so the blow went over his head, and then threw the Arc into the metal walls of garbage bin so hard that smashed through it and hit the one behind him with enough force to imprint himself and still have it slams halfway through the wall behind him.

His survival could only be thanks to his Arc Constitution and his training. No less could be needed for a future hunter. 

His quick reflexes saved his life as Verdant appeared in front of him raining down dozens of blows at the trapped Arc.

Either diverting the force with his arms or turning his head to lessen the force of the hits he couldn’t block. Each hit forcing him and the bin further through the wall.

Finally, the bin couldn’t take it anymore and exploded through the wall into a crowded street, taking the Arc with it. He tumbled through the street, cars flipping over as they hit him and denting the dustcrete ground.

The Arc rose off the ground bruised and scratched but otherwise fine. His hoodie remarkably unharmed and clean, smelling nice too.

Verdant appeared from the smoking wall and sprinted out ready to continue their deathmatch.

Arc held his hand out and said: “Time out!” Crossing his arms together in an X.

Verdant stopped his punch halfway and nodded, holding his pose. They may be fighting to the death, but no need to be rude.

Jaune mumbled out a thank you, and then pulled off his hoodie and tied it around his waist. Revealing an absolutely Adonis-like build, causing several more cars to crash in distraction. There’s a reason Jaune never takes off his hoodie unless he gets serious.

Even Verdants eyes strayed down, not being able to help himself from staring.

Then Verdant made a timeout pose too, too which Jaune agreed to allow, and Verdant mumbled out a thank you.

Verdant then took off his hoodie, revealing pale skin with a toned core and heavily bandaged chest that seemed to bind down his muscles and toned arms.

A pretty, oval face framed by a curtain of straight black hair in a hime cut.

His burning green eyes could now be seen without obstruction, in which a manic obsession could be seen, his full green lips, and the tell-tell sign of his Faunus heritage of green scales bordering his eyes also appeared with his hoodie disappearing. Green Scales lined erratically across his body inconsistent patterns.

Verdant also tied his hoodie to his waist. He also caused several car crashes. The two fighters were now also surrounded by several men and women taking pictures of the two adonizes.

Jaune turned to look at the crowd and frowned. “So, uh, you want to take this somewhere else?”

Verdant frowned too and rubbed the back of his head with his hand. “Yeah, they kinda take the mood out of the fight… So the playground?”

Jaune nodded. “Yeah, sounds good.”

Faster than the common eye could track they were gone, leaving out several tens of millions of lien in property damage, a crater where they stood mere milliseconds ago, and a horde of now thirsty fans. Miraculously no one died or was injured.

Standing on top of the swing set looking down at the Arc, was Verdant, strong and limber.

Looking up at Verdant from the sandbox was the Arc, Jaune.

Both fighter's muscles were bulging and rippling underneath their skin like a B-rated horror movie.

They were tense and ready for action.

Verdant moved first taking a swing and slugging the Arc in the face, knocking his head back and created an annoying ringing in his right ear.

The Arc responded in kind, taking a step forward and twisting his body to slam his naked fist into the Verdants nose.

The fighters both sent each other back several feet, before rushing each other again. A feral grin on Verdant's face and an expression of malevolent joy etched into the Arc’s face.

Verdant shot a flurry of jabs into Arc’s guard only for all of them to be parried away but followed by an unexpected haymaker to the stomach. Only stopped by the Arc tensing his muscles to metallic levels of strength and density, the pain though, still rippled through his organs.

Not to be outdone, Arc grabbed the Verdant's head and slammed his forehead into his nose, dazing the poor bastard. The man didn’t let up, like an enraged bull he grabbed his opponent with inhuman strength and put him into a clinch, and then kneed him in the face repeatedly at bullet speed.

Only Verdants brilliant reaction speed and reflexes saved his life there, getting his arms in front of his face with bullet dodging speed. Using his forearms he absorbed almost all of the damage from Jaune's deadly barrage. But still, he heard his bones creaking in protest.

Arc finished by letting go of his clinch, and pushed his dazed opponent away, giving him just enough space to perform a roundhouse kick.

His foot cut through the air fast enough to leave a sonic boom and hit Verdant in the shoulder, which if someone with x-ray vision could see would witness where Arcs foot landed left a dozen hairline fractures.

Verdant was lifted off the ground from the force and sent flying through a dozen dead trees that happened to be there in the way.

Verdant didn’t let himself become prone though, with the force diminished he rolled back into a crouch and then rose into his full height. Ready for another onslaught.

Arc did not disappoint, rushing through the forest like a charging wildebeest.

His outstretched fist promised pain and injury if it landed.

So Verdant waited, and waited, for the moment.

Then swiftly turned at the last moment possible, and Arc overshot the blow.

Slipping narrowly behind the Arc, taking a half a second to stare in appreciation at his triple S-grade man booty that could be seen even through his hoodie covered backside, (he even had Dimples of Venus! It just made him want to say ‘Oh Lawd!’), before sticking a leg out to trip him. As the Arc fell to the ground, as a titan tossed to the earth from the heavens by the new gods, Verdant did not let the opportunity slip, unleashing a flurry of kicks to his unprotected back. Each one targeting a set of muscles or organs, a flash of red hot pain met Arc's mind as he tried to tense his back for each blow, only barely managing to avoid death with each hit, protected by his dense muscle and bone.

Each hit landing sent dust into the air and sunk Arc into a crater. Arc, ever with a tactical mind, grabbed some dirt and flung it into Verdant's eyes, stunning him. His enemy weakened he rolled onto his shoulders and tensed his core lashing out with a double leg kick into his Verdants unprotected core launching him through a random Ursa Major that somehow got to the playground, tearing through it cleanly and landing on a chain-link fence breaking it under his weight.

Arc lifted himself in a handstand and then launched himself into the air, landing on his feet. He then buckled over breathing hard and coughed up a couple of fists full of blood.

‘I can’t take many hits like that, or it’ll be the end. Can’t let that happen, not before this bastard dies for what he did…’

Arc looked to Verdant weakly struggling to untangle himself from the broken fence. Who had a similar train of thought?

Seeming to vanish from existence, Arc reappeared sprinting before Verdant grabbing him by the head and dragging him face-first into the ground and chain link fence. Arc ran as hard and fast as he could to drag Verdant to his death.

The fence and earth around it were destroyed by Arcs assaulted against Verdant as he dragged him against the fence till there was no more fence, Verdant screaming all the way.

When there was no more fence he dragged him against the dustcrete ground tearing it up too and then slamming him into a brick wall with all the force he could muster, sending him from one end of the block to the other, and then into the block next to it.

Arc panted hard from the exertion, feeling like his muscles were tearing apart at the seams, as though his blood was boiling from how hot he was, and his bones about to snap from a light breeze. But he wasn’t done yet.

Sprinting through the wreckage he caused, Arc began to look for his loathed enemy. The line of destruction ended in a tool store, and things became deathly quiet. His keen hearing alerted him to a threat on his life as a dozen saw blades split the air in their fury towards him.

He only panicked briefly and recomposed himself. Grabbing a nearby tape measurer, Arc swung it through the air, knocking the saw blades out of the air, spinning the tape measurer in every direction they were coming from. He was safe, but his poor tool was too abused to keep together and faded into ashes.

Arc gave a prayer for its soul and chucked a dozen flathead screwdrivers towards a flash of green. The screwdriver drove themselves into the wall, hitting nothing else in between but empty air.

The hair rose on the back of his neck as he dodged to the ground, a sonic boom following ten Phillips head screwdrivers as they flew millimeters above his skin. Cutting thin lines into his skin from the sheer air pressure.

“Ara Ara, I find myself surprised even when I shouldn’t, Jaune of the Sandbox. Dodging the attack of one such as I, who draws upon the power of the Scaled-Clan.” Verdant’s voice said, leading Arc to where he stood on top of the check-out counter… Looking very different, but no less familiar.

Verdant’s body was now covered in green scales across his body, looking more like a bipedal lizard than a Faunus that he was, with his long, spindly lizard tail now sprouted from his back. Still had hair though, and his chest was still covered in bandages too.

Arc grimaced at the sight, this was not going to get easier now. The last time he fought Verdant in his Scale-Clan form, he nearly killed Arc and put him in the hospital for three months even with his Arc Constitution speeding up the healing process.

In between Verdants digits were sawblades and he got ready to throw them, Jaune blanched and held his arms in an X shape. “Time out! I need to power up.”

Verdant stopped and lowered his arm. “Oh, sorry.”

“It’s fine, just need like five seconds.” 

For mortal enemies, they are pretty cordial with each other.

Jaune squatted and focused on his Arc lineage, before a flash of white light filled the store.

The light dialed down, till it showed Jaune with the Arc Crest burning white on his chest.

“Ok, back to killing each other,” Jaune said, uncrossing his arms.

“Alright… Die!” Verdant yelled and unleashed a flurry of sawblades at the Arc.

His perception sped up immensely Arc deflected each of the oncoming sawblades with his fist sending flying into the walls. Even with his speed Arc barely managed to dodge the tail holding a paint scraper flying towards his jugular. Even as he dodged that a hand holding a buzzsaw and another a chisel both attempted to chunk him up. 

Using quick hands Arc got a hold of a pipe and two by four. Blocking and deflecting became the game of choice between the combatants. Flesh, scales, light, and blood all flew through the air as they weaved a deadly tapestry between the two. But it was as the two by four broke that Arc got a clean shot to Verdants exposed chin that suspended the duel.

Verdant broke through the air as he flew into a home appliance store and out, crashing on the shore of a river behind the shopping district, the evening sun playing with beautiful colors on its surface. Verdant could only laugh, knowing that this is where their battle would end. The place it had begun oh, so many years ago.

The River of the End. 

The River that leads out of Vale into uncontested waters, that no living body may own.

Verdant let a single tear fall, letting all the sadness he had been fighting this entire time for over ten years be expressed in but one droplet. ‘This is where it’ll end.’ Verdant thought to himself. “Why does it have to end this way?” He asked himself.

He received no answer to his question.

Verdant drew his eyes over to the sound of a crash. Jaune stood tall behind him, a blender in his hand spinning at speeds that would shred anything it touched. He had removed the plastic thing on it, leaving only the blades spinning in a grey blur.

Verdant gave a rueful, but from the heart laugh at the sight of Jaune’s ridiculous weapon. 

Arc watched Verdant bring out a wicked-looking taser, and jumped on top of the bridge behind him looking down at him.

Verdant watched Jaune running towards him, and tensed his legs for the final blow of the fight.

Arc saw as Verdant jumped at him screaming. “JAUNE!”

Verdant watched as Jaune jumped off the ground, screaming “Verdant!”

Their weapons met midair, the broken blender conducting the lightning down Jaune’s arm into his heart. The blender shredding through the taser and sending shrapnel into each of them, both still screaming. Then the taser exploded, and Jaune pushed forward through it and hit the blender into Verdant's abdomen.

Verdant screamed as the rotating blades clipped through his scales, ripping off the flesh and muscles, in a gory shower. Verdant's let his tears flow freely before headbutting Jaune and then both of them hit the ground.

Jaune couldn’t react as he felt danger, too tired and his Arc power fading. Verdant bloody as the day he was born, stood up on wobbly legs and raised his rapidly fading tail, tears in his eyes, and stabbed Jaune through his abdomen. Barely getting it’s meaty tip inside before hitting his back.

Jaune groaned in agony as a hole was ripped into him. Fluids flew everywhere, and he passed out.

Verdant cried bitter tears at his victory and pulled his fading tail back inside.

The force jostling Jaune enough to send him rolling down into the river below.

Verdant struggled to grab Jaune before he fell. 

Scales falling off his face… No the face changed slightly, revealing a more feminine form beneath. As Verdants scale-clan power faded it revealed why Verdant wore bandages on his chest. Two lumps grew on her chest, hips widened, and shoulders tightened, revealing Verdant, not as he, but she.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ozpin sat at his desk watching the most entertaining fight between young miss Verdant Scales and Jaune Arc yet.

The property damage was a bit concerning, but so what? His students regularly cause 11 times more than that on the daily.

He did feel a pang of sadness at two former friends fighting to the death, but he quickly suppressed it. I mean this is the tenth time they’ve done this, and neither has managed to kill each other yet. So what are the odds it sticks this time?

Ah! It brought him back to what all started it.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Time: August 1, 69 AVT. (Ten Years beforehand at the River of Separation)

Little Jaune and Lil’ Verdant were sitting on the bench watching the sunset, their mothers talking in the background.

Jaune and his mother were having a lovely day out, his sisters having a daddy day, so it was just him and her.

His mom met her friend, whose son Jaune became fast friends with. They hung out on the swings, Verdants idea, and played in the sandbox, Jaune’s idea.

Finally, the ice cream truck came around, and Jaune got a cool Spongebob Ice Cream and Verdant got something else.

Verdant had been having a great day with her mother, till her mother met her friend, and met the boy that took her breath away.

The rest of the day felt like a dream, playing, eating, having fun.

Then they got ice cream. Jaune got some yellow ice cream, and Verdant got chocolate ice cream.

Verdant finished her ice cream faster and didn’t like how much attention Jaune was putting into eating his ice cream instead of playing with her.

“NOTICE ME, SENPAI!” She screamed out as she ripped the ice cream out of his hands and ate it in one bite.

“TEME!” Jaune shouted, having watched too much subbed Naruto, before cleaning her clock with one punch.

Their mothers had to separate the two; The two mothers understood that Ice Cream theft is a grave offense to the Arc Family that has pulled them into 3 great wars, 4 not so great wars, and a half a dozen other minor peacekeeping incidents.

Hell, Jaune’s mother alone has killed 3 people in the name of ice cream... Vanilla Ice cream of all things.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ozpin gave a shuddering mixture of a laugh and a dread-filled groan. He still had bite marks from getting in between an Arc and their ice cream. It can be worse than getting between the Rose family and their cookies and strawberries

The old-young man still couldn’t help but laugh that this all started because of ice cream. Then he thought about the time his deputy got between him and his hot cocoa… Poor Thomas… That was around the time he hired Glynda, wasn’t it?

Ozpin drudged up another laugh that Jaune never realized Verdant was a girl.

If he was this entertaining now, he couldn’t wait for him to get to Beacon. Transcripts fake or not… There is not much that goes on in Vale that Ozpin doesn’t know.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On her hands and knees, Verdant was breathing pretty hard. The gasps of air she took in racked her whole body in its sweet taste. This year's life and death battle had taken a lot out of her.

She could feel her lifeblood leaking out from a dozen places, but fuck it she was dead tired, and she had taken worse than this before. Plus, she has joint insurance with Jaune, they had agreed it would be cheaper if they were going to have death battles every year until one of them drops dead. They might as well make it easier on each other.

Speaking of Jaune, the lovable idiot had gotten swept upstream. That wasn’t good, she may have been trying to kill him, but she didn’t want him dead… But then again she was half certain he was immortal considering the amount of stress his body is put through.

Verdant was a 100% certain she was not immortal, as the only reason Jaune has not killed her yet being either him messing up at the last second allowing her to turn the tide, someone stepping in and allowing her to turn the tide, or some freak incident occurring allowing her to turn the tide.

Jaune had yet to win a single death battle, and Jaune has technically died 10 times so far. 

Verdant got off her knees and hands to fall on her back allowing her clammy, cold skin to warm up in the fading evening sun. Her breathing slowed and calmed as she lay on her back, relaxing for the remainder of the evening.

The crunching of rock woke Verdant up from her pleasant lazing about. She rose slowly up to see Jaune’s bicycle on the ground next to her. It had followed them.

She smirked at the Bicycle. “Come to avenge your master?”

The bike twisted its front wheel from left to right. ‘No’ It seemed to say.

Verdant frowned. “Then why have you come here? To see your Master’s opponent, slain or otherwise?” Slightly agitated, but also curious.

It twisted its front wheel once again. ‘No.’ It seemed to say again.

Verdant said nothing this time, letting it communicate this time.

The bike turned towards the bloody trailing falling into the water.

It made several sounds using its body. Some sounded angry, others mournful, but most of all despair. 

It then went silent.

The bike rode forward to blood and further down the shore almost to the shore.

“Wait!” Verdant called out to the bike. “What do you intend to do?”

It made several sounds. Seeming to say. ‘To follow my master like any noble steed.’

“Jaune, wouldn’t want anybody to sacrifice themselves for him, and he isn’t dead stay with me till he returns.”

The bike seemed to ponder for a few seconds before going back up the shore to Verdant, and then they walked off into the night to go to the hospital.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey Rubes, what are you watching?” Yang called out to Ruby, sitting on the couch with a blank expression on her face.

“Huh?!” Ruby said in surprise, having drifted off in the middle of a movie. Ruby looked to the TV to see what seemed to be a fight between two buff guys that then suddenly disappeared.

“I don’t know?”

“Ah, and here I thought my baby sister had her first sexual awakening!” Yang said in a faux sad tone.

“Yaaang!” Ruby groaned.

The tv spoke over the two. “Professor Ozpin! Anything to add to this alleged fight between rogue hunters?”

The Professor took a sip and calmly said. “Teens are fucking crazy.” Then walked away.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On an island 15 mile north of Vale, we find Jaune unconscious on top of a rocky shore of a densely forested island.

A random ass grizzly bear decided he looked tasty and dragged him off the shore into its cave, failing to notice it’s fangs unable to break Jaune’s skin.

It would be the last mistake as Jaune woke up, doing that stretchy thing when you wake up and you put arms into the air. Jaune socking the grizzly bear by accident and raddled its brain into unconsciousness.

Jaune could only think looking at the knocked out bear. “Alright, dinner!”

#Jaune Arc #Jaune Arc Crack

[silverstarlightlion]

the final entry in the team seven dies on the bridge au - this one got way away from me but oh well, I’m not editing it because that’s not how this chain works

Team Seven take the mission to the Land of Waves. On the bridge, they fight Zabuza and Haku.

On the bridge, Kakashi dies.

It happens in a flash, a shout and a burst of chakra and blood. The ice mirrors trapping Sasuke and Naruto in with Haku crack and break, and there's a high-pitched electric whine that lasts for a moment longer than the voices, before everything turns eerily, horribly silent.

In the ghostly silence, the mirrors collapse and smash into the half-finished Bridge, shattering, and Team Seven comes apart and shatters with them. Kakashi drops to one knee – thud – as the lightning in his palm winks out, and Zabuza steps back with a sneer. At his side, Haku lowers their hands, ignores the streak of blood across their side, and relaxes their stance. They move into Zabuza’s wake, following him as he strides past. Towards Sakura.

Towards Tazuna.

Naruto shouts, incoherent, and all at once he's wreathed once more in the strange and sticky red chakra, and throwing himself at Zabuza. Sakura is struck dumb, frozen, unblinking, watching Zabuza approach with sightless eyes, her kunai still held before her – her grip is textbook and too tight, and wavers when the Kiri-nin get too close.

She doesn't move, as Haku lashes out to stop Naruto's descent, flings him back. She doesn't move when Zabuza walks past her. She doesn't move as Sasuke snarls and jumps after Haku as well, as their fight re-engages. She doesn't move when Tazuna cries out behind her, she doesn't move when her name rings in her ears, she doesn't move when it ends with a whimper and a gurgle. Sakura doesn't move as Zabuza sets his sword on her shoulder.

She thinks, for a minute that lasts her whole lifetime, that Zabuza’s going to kill her too. She's not sure that she minds.

It's only when Zabuza grunts, dismissive, and turns on his heel – taking his sword with him, leaving a nick in her collar so shallow it doesn't even hurt – that Sakura finds the will to move. Gasps in a deep breath, like she's been drowning. Naruto and Sasuke are still fighting around her, flashing back and forth as Haku fends them off, but it all just sounds like echoes as she remembers how to walk and starts creeping towards Kakashi-sensei.

He's sprawled gracelessly, and his head is turned just a little too far to the side. He's half on his stomach, shoulders flat to the concrete, with one leg crumpled up underneath him. The grim, grey light of overcast morning winter is reflecting in his eyes, a glimmer that feels like a lie.

"Kakashi-sensei…?" she hears herself ask, her voice absolutely tiny, and her knees give way to drop her at Kakashi's side. Naruto is shouting something behind her, getting distant, and Sakura can't tell if he's moving away from her or if she just can't trust her senses anymore, but she can't bring herself to try figure it out. Her ears are ringing. Kakashi doesn't respond – doesn't move, doesn't blink, doesn't lift his gaze to her. His pupils don't respond to the light, too dilated. His mismatched irises are almost eclipsed. "... Kakashi… sensei…?" Her voice is a ghost in her own throat. When she reaches out, it feels like watching someone else do it; her hand is shaking violently, numb and cold, and her very skin feels like it doesn't belong to her, clingy and fuzzy and tingling all at once, like she's both trying to crawl out of herself and is the thing trying to be climbed out of.

Kakashi's face is warm when she touches him. It's a struggle to roll him over, the effort a blur of sound and nauseating breathlessness as she grips his shoulder and pushes. He's limp, utterly so, and his limbs drag and twist when she manages to get him more on his side. There's no movement in his chest or stomach.

He doesn't blink. He's not breathing.

The blood is pooling underneath him where Haku had torn a hole in his side, from all the cuts Zabuza gave him. When Sakura touches his face again, tries to turn his head even though she doesn't even know why, she can feel the broken bones in his neck grind.

Her tears taste like bitter acid as she collapses, each sob into Kakashi's unbreathing chest torn out of her as if she's turning inside out. Sakura can feel each beat of her own heart, like being kicked, a thunderous stomping in her ears, and it's a betrayal of the highest order when she can't feel Kakashi's under her hands. She thinks she screams, maybe. She's not sure.

It's not real. It can't be real. If she can just cry hard enough, if she can get out the huge, heavy, writhing thing that's crawling up her throat, if she can just make it all stop for just a moment, she can make it stop being real. Because it has to be a lie.

Kakashi is one of the strongest shinobi in Konoha. He's their teacher. He's improper and lazy and grouchy, and he's fought so hard to get this mission done, and he can't be dead. There's so much more he still has to teach them.

She thinks that one of them touches her, maybe, but it registers only as searing pain and she cries out between choking sobs, and it's only when she eventually has to pull back from Kakashi— From Kakashi's… body… from Kakashi that she remembers she's got the incredible misfortune to exist, and that there's still a solid world around her. It's revolting. That the world dares to continue being when it should be shattered.

But she pulls back, because her sobs are getting caught in her throat and she's gagging on them, stomach convulsing as the force of her crying slides into violent coughing, until she jolts and vomits.

Naruto, returned from the fruitless chase, keeps at Sakura's side and rubs her back, and tries to figure out what to say. How it could have possibly gone so wrong. They should have won. They were supposed to win – they were supposed to save Inari and prove that goodness meant something and make sure that Waves would be okay.

But there's nothing but the cold wind and the grey sky and blood on all sides, and the smell of death and salt and bile while Sakura struggles to breathe through her tears and retching.

Sasuke hasn't made a sound. He stands a few feet away, eyes dark, staring at Kakashi with hatred and icy anger. His hands are clenched. He knows too well that Kakashi is dead and they failed and it doesn't mean a damn thing. Because life is cheap and death is worthless. Sasuke is seven years old again, and trying to figure out how to say goodbye to the corpses that are no longer his parents, and Kakashi will never even know if they mourn him or not. He can't find the will to care or fight or cry. It doesn't matter. None of it matters. Nobody matters.

Death comes for all. Why should it mean anything if it found Kakashi now, or later? It would find everyone eventually.

Sasuke would make sure of it.

And across the countries, far beyond the knowledge of the now-lost genin, Konoha is split apart with the howls of eight ninken.

It's the ninken who find them first, in the end. They haven't moved from the bridge, half-completed, when the ninken arrive. It's late afternoon, and they've huddled together and done not much else. Sakura is in a small ball, curled up on the ground and holding onto Kakashi's body like he might still wake up at any moment and give her something to do. Sasuke stands nearby, arms folded, silent. He's watching, guarding, perhaps, except that he spots the ninken incoming and says nothing and moves neither to block their approach or welcome it. There are several Narutos milling about, one sitting with Sakura, hand still rubbing her back, while the others do… something. Even they're not really sure. But Naruto is a creature of action, and he can neither figure out what it is he's supposed to do nor tolerate the prospect of doing nothing.

There are Anbu on the ninken's tails, and they quickly take charge of the situation, and everything blurs together into noise and colour and pain.

When they arrive back at Konoha, the Anbu have to drag Sasuke up to the Hokage Tower with them. Naruto trudges alongside voluntarily, his gaze straying constantly to Kakashi – pale and still and cold and stiff in the Anbu's arms – and he silently prays that Grandpa Hokage will know what to do, because everything… seems a lot less simple than it did before, suddenly. Sakura offers no resistance, tucked against another Anbu's chest as she has been since they first picked her up in Waves Country. She's still shaking, each breath shallow and rattling, her gaze distant and empty. Putting her down isn't an option. Naruto is pretty sure she would simply stay curled on the ground where she was set, if the Anbu was to put her down.

Hirizen is unusually serious, when they're taken into his office, but that makes sense, Naruto supposes. The death of a Konoha jōnin is a big deal. Orders are given over their heads, and Naruto stays quiet despite the endless questions clawing at the inside of his ribcage, because Hiruzen does know what to do, obviously, because of course he would, so Naruto just has to wait until he tells them what they're supposed to do.

Right?

And it'll be okay? Like it's supposed to be?

… 

Sasuke fights. He snarls, and then shouts, and then draws a kunai. The Anbu who'd dragged him up here in the first place knocks him unconscious, somehow, too fast for the genin to track, and carries him out. Sakura doesn't even ask where they're taking him.

And she… quits. Not on the spot, it's not until they attend Kakashi's funeral – and Sasuke attends too, shackled to an Anbu member, and it's the first time they've seen him since Hiruzen's office – but at the end of the day, when almost everyone else has gone, when Sasuke's gone (and he didn't even acknowledge them, didn't say a word to them, ignored Naruto's shouting after him when the Anbu walked him away), she finally finally finds her voice to speak. She's been silent since the bridge.

"I'm… I'm quitting," she whispers to him, while her parents stand just a teeny bit back to give them space. Her eyes, dull and hollow green, are fixed on Kakashi's headstone. "I can't do this. I can't do anything."

She sets her hitai-ite on Kakashi's grave, and Naruto never sees her in training again.

He finds out where Sasuke is, through a combination of stubborn defiance and reckless rule-breaking. Hiruzen allows him into what can only be a secret Anbu facility, and takes him down endless stairs until finally he sees the torchlit cage that Sasuke is in. He's doing pushups when they arrive.

It isn't until Naruto appeals to him as a friend that Sasuke finally stops, gets to his feet, storms up to the bars. "We are not friends," he hisses.

"What are you going to do?" Naruto can't think of anything else to ask him. What can he possibly be doing? How can he be okay down here?

"I'm going to kill the people who deserve it."

Naruto visits Sasuke six more times, and six more times he's almost fully ignored while Sasuke ceaselessly trains, alone in the dark, as if he doesn't even care that he's locked up like some kind of criminal. Naruto dares once to ask Hiruzen to let Sasuke go, and he learns that day just why the Kage's are so respected and so feared. It's the first time he's ever been scared of Hiruzen, and no amount of apologies or make-up ramen afterwards can undo it.

If this is what being Hokage really means, Naruto's no longer sure that he wants it.

The seventh time, Sasuke is gone, and no one will tell Naruto where he's gone.

When, months later, Iruka takes Naruto to meet Jiraiya, Naruto leaps on the offer of training. He's been… not wallowing, but his team has disintegrated and his training has gotten spotty. He needs a teacher, someone incredibly strong like Jiraiya, because Naruto has to get stronger. He needs to get strong enough to protect the people who matter. He needs to be strong to make sure that nobody else dies because he couldn't stop it – he needs to, because maybe if he can get there, if he can promise safety, then he can earn back his family. Sasuke and Sakura had been, pretty much, for the short time they'd been a team.

His team was everything. How could he protect Konoha if he can't even protect his teammates?

And so Naruto leaves with Jiraiya, single-minded and dogged, and if he pushes too hard too fast then it's all Jiraiya can do to try and keep up with Naruto's pathological need to chase strength.

…

Sasuke relinquishes freedom. He has no use for it. In the dead of night, he's whisked out of the Anbu Red Vault and into a silent promise of power and revenge. He allows the Seal to be placed on his tongue without resistance. He's called upon, eventually, to murder the other child he's been trained alongside, and he does so without hesitation or mercy. He dons the black uniform and the pale mask and he carves himself into nothing more than a blade, and he lays himself in Danzō's hand. One day, he is promised, he'll be the weapon wielded to end Itachi's life.

…

And Sakura leaves. She does it out of mercy, she thinks at first. It's her fault, after all, that Kakashi is dead. That Sasuke is gone. That Naruto is alone. She knows nothing of their fates, and she dares not ask after them, because if she involves herself then, she's sure, she's just going to get in their way.

And it’s a guilt that she's finally realised she isn't strong enough to carry. She stood by, on the bridge, and she did nothing. It doesn't matter that she was Tazuna's last line of defence; Tazuna is dead. It doesn't matter that she was told to guard him; the man who gave that order is dead, too.

It's her fault, it's her fault, it's her fault, it's HER FAULT.

So she sneaks out, and she means it to be mercy, because the only way she can think of to make sure she never does it again – does nothing – is… if she's not around to. And it's mercy, really, if she doesn't force her parents to be the ones who find her. She's never been able to scrub her own skin free of the way Kakashi's had felt. Warm and faintly damp with sweat and smooth between the endless minute scars, cooling into tacky rigidity. He'd still looked like himself, when the ninken had got there, but he'd felt like stone under her hands. Like he wasn't real.

Like none of it was real.

Sakura decides, in the dead of night, that she's willing to give anything to make it not real.

And, in the end, someone extends mercy to her parents but it's not her. The first moment of freefall, when she jumps off the edge of the Hokage monument, is exhilarating. Freedom. Safety. She's going to escape, and she won't have to take down anyone else with her ever again.

The next few seconds overwhelm her with terror, and Sakura loses her grip on reality as it suddenly registers what her freedom really means, and as the ground hurtles up towards her, all Sakura can think is that she's afraid. Like she was on the bridge. Like maybe that's all there is, after all. Fear.

So when a pair of arms wraps around her and snatch her out of the air, Sakura clings on and sobs without knowing who it is that's saved her, or if it’s even real, and it feels like being on the bridge all over again. But the arms stay close, hold on tight, and eventually Sakura manages to remember how her senses work.

"... Gai-sensei?"

He's still dressed in his signature green jumpsuit, but there's a grimness to him that's unfamiliar. Holding her entire meagre weight close to his chest with just one arm, Gai brushes her hair back out of her face, sticky and matted with snot and tears. "It's going to be okay, Sakura." She can't wrap her head around why Gai's here. How is he here? But Gai glances at her at the same moment Sakura realises he's walking, and she can't get the whine in her throat to make any more words, but Gai seems to understand. "If you were to die now, then Kakashi died to protect you for no reason. And I know you don't want to squander that."

Her fault. But Gai says it differently. Like for her isn't the same as her fault. Was it for her? Sakura isn't sure of anything, anymore. If anyone knows, it must be Gai-sensei. A shudder goes through her, and she buries her face in Gai's shoulder. Her senses are screaming at her, her heart still wild and painful in her chest. It seems to think she's still falling to her death.

"... What can I do?" It was already squandered. Wasn't it? Sakura couldn't do anything. She'd stood by and watched.

But Gai grunts, pets her back. "It's never too late to stop giving up. Get strong. Protect the things Kakashi can't anymore. Protect yourself. Protect Konoha."

And it’s pathetic, but Sakura is pretty sure she's pathetic no matter what, so she scrunches up her hands in Gai's shirt, and wishes they would stop shaking so bad, and shakes her head. "I can't. I'm not strong. I'm… I'm not strong."

"You're here." She almost wasn't.

And the whine breaks out. "I'm here bec-cause I'm weak. B-because he was— was strong."

Gai hums. She can't tell if it's agreement or not. "So do him proud. I'll show you how." Gai loosens his grip, just a little, and picks up Sakura's head. Forces her to meet his gaze. His face is oddly shadowed in the moon- and lamplight. "It's not easy. It's never easy. But it's worth it. You're strong – let me show you just how strong you are."

They're on the other side of the village, Sakura thinks, now that she's looking around. Still shaking – shivering, really – but they're in a residential area, closer to the outskirts, where the houses have little gardens and families and—

Gai carries her to a house. Lee is on the porch, watching anxiously.

"Why are you doing this?" Sakura manages to ask, while Gai brings her inside, and carefully deposits her on a couch. Lee appears at his side a moment later, and he offers Sakura a glass of water. Automatically, she takes it, and Gai steadies her hands so she doesn't drop it. Their faces are blurry through her tears. "Why…?"

It's Lee who speaks up, and he's quieter than usual but no less intense. "Because when we lose a family member, we should come together to support each other." Gai nods, beams at Lee proudly. "Kakashi-sensei was Gai-sensei's family, so he was my family. And you're Kakashi-sensei's family, so you're our family."

The water tastes like adrenaline and steel when Sakura makes herself sip it, but the gentle chill of it diffuses in her chest and something she doesn't have words for eases slightly.

"I couldn't have said it better myself, Lee," Gai says, pulling Lee down into a hug with his free arm. "So. Let us help you be strong, like Kakashi wanted."

It's surreal. So many things have happened in so little time; a few minutes ago, Sakura had been convincing herself to jump from the top of the Hokage monument. How can this feel so different, so quickly? She's in— Is she in Gai-sensei's house? And it can't fucking be real – but nothing feels real anymore, hasn't for a while now, and… if anyone knows what Kakashi wanted, then it's Gai.

And it’s Gai.

… Can he really teach her strength? Does it matter?

"He's not totally gone while we remember him," Lee says quietly, and he lays a hand on Sakura's knee. "So if we do what he wanted, then it's like he accomplished his goals."

It doesn't make a lot of sense to Sakura, because Kakashi-sensei is definitely gone, but… Well, she can always jump off a high place later. Maybe they're right? Would Kakashi want her to learn strength from Gai?

Sakura drinks the rest of the water.

"Okay."

#StarlightLion #Starlight Writes #Naruto #Team Seven #Hatake Kakashi #Uzumaki Naruto #Haruno Sakura #Uchiha Sasuke #Maito Gai #Rock Lee #Kakashi dies #and Team Seven fractures #Naruto is beyond his reach #and Sasuke has given himself over to the dark #but by gods Gai will save Kakashi's kids if he can #Sakura is his now #also please consider: Sakura with the power to open the Eight Gates

[seanfalco]

Would you write Sean comforting a crying reader? I’m in a depressive episode rn and I could really use some love and comfort. Thank u Joz ❤️

You Can Breathe Now

Sean Falco x Reader

Word Count: 1k

a/n: I hope this helps you feel a little better, friend 💖

——

You hadn’t seen Sean for nearly a week, work and other obligations somehow always managing to get in the way and it was all starting to take a toll on you.

Stepping foot in your woefully empty apartment, you looked around, the sick feeling in your stomach almost choking you, leaving you breathless and overwhelmed. There was no way you could spend another night alone, and you didn’t even care that you had another early morning meeting the next day, you had to see him.

Grabbing your bag, you turned around and walked back out the door. It wasn’t until you parked in front of Sean’s tiny flat that it occurred to you he might not actually be there, his beaten up car nowhere to be seen.

Great, what else could go wrong? you thought, biting your lip to hold back your tears, a few stray raindrops hitting the roof of your car, as if the weather were mirroring your mood. Reaching for your phone you dialled Sean’s number, needing to hear his voice and wondering where he was.

“Hi, you’ve reached Sean Falco, I’m not able t’take your call at th’moment, but if y’leave your name and number, I’ll get back t’you as soon as I can.”

At the sound of his voice your heart had leapt, only to realize you’d reached his voicemail, your stomach dropping in disappointment.

“Uhm, hey Sean, it’s me. I-I’m at your place, but you… you’re not here, so uhm, I’m gunna let myself in. I’m not doin’ so well. Call me? Please?”

As you hung up, you took a deep breath, hating how your voice had trembled as you left your message.

Not wanting to get caught in the rain, you hurried up the rickety steps to Sean’s makeshift apartment, using the key he’d given you to unlock the door, stepping inside as a flash of lightning lit up the sky. Moments later an earth shaking crack of thunder followed, heralding the beginning of the storm and the heavens opened up, sending down a deluge, the rain almost deafening against the low roof over your head.

Shivering, you quickly undressed, finding one of Sean’s shirts to throw on before crawling under the covers and burying your face in his pillows, surrounding yourself with his scent, your eyes beginning to swim with the tears you’d managed to hold back until now.

Dissolving into sobs, you let yourself cry, feeling the kitten jump atop you to lap at your tear stained cheek, her tongue rough against your flushed skin and the sweetness of it only made you sob harder, losing track of time while the storm raged on.

Suddenly the door flew open, admitting a rather drenched Sean, a flash of lightning behind him throwing his silhouette against the wall.

“[y/n], are you alright? What’s th’matter?” he cried, rushing over to the bed as soon as he saw you, his curls plastered wetly to his face from the rain. Without a word, you threw yourself into his arms, past caring if you were getting wet as well, pressing your face to his chest.

“Darlin’, what’s wrong?” Sean repeated, holding you tightly, his hand smoothing back your hair in an attempt to see your face. “I was out with Derek when I got your message and my phone died before I could call you back,” he explained, worry thick in his voice.

“I’m sorry, I just really missed you!” you cried, your own voice cracking pitifully. “I’ve been so overwhelmed lately and I just wanted to see you!” you wailed, breaking down even further.

“Oh [y/n], oh darlin’, it’s gunna be alright,” he exclaimed, rocking you gently in his embrace, his heart breaking at your cries. “I’m right here, it’s okay,” he soothed as the rain pounded on overhead, letting you cry it out til your tears finally subsided, not letting you go.

“Sometime’s a good cry’s all y’need,” he murmured, cupping your cheeks as he pulled back to look at your face, catching the last of your tears with his thumb. “Here, lemme get outta these wet clothes and I can hold yeh properly,” he offered.

Taking a shaky breath, you nodded, wiping at your nose with your sleeve.

Smiling gently at you, Sean stood, peeling his soaked shirt over his head to toss in the hamper, followed by his jeans before grabbing a towel to dry off his hair and crawl under the covers with you. “There, better?” he asked, pulling you back into his arms.

“Better,” you murmured, thickly, settling in his embrace, your legs entwined with his. You were sure you looked a mess, your eyes red and swollen from crying so hard, but Sean didn’t look at you any differently, tenderly kissing the top of your head.

“Talk t’me, what’s goin’ on that’s overwhelmin’ you so much?” he asked as you pressed your ears to his chest, listening to his even heartbeat.

“Work’s been so stressful, and it’s almost that time of the month, so I’m even more emotional than usual, and exhausted, and just every time I’ve wanted to make time to see you, it’s like the universe gets in the way, one thing after another after another and I’ve missed you,” you exclaimed, your voice nearly breaking again. “I got home tonight and just felt so alone,” you explained. “Have you ever wanted to see someone so badly you couldn’t breathe?”

“Yeah, yeah I have,” Sean answered, stroking your hair. “But I can breathe now too.”

At his words your heart twisted with affection and you squeezed him even tighter.

“I love you, Sean,” you gasped, willing yourself not to cry again.

“I love yeh too, [y/n]. Would it be too much t’beg you t’call in sick tomorrow and stay here with me?” he asked hopefully and you couldn’t help but let out a relieved laugh.

“Yeah, I think I might. I’ll reschedule my meeting.”

“Wow, that was easier than I thought,” he grinned, pressing kisses to your face.

“What can I say, you’re very persuasive,” you replied, a grin pulling at your lips.”

“There’s my smile,” Sean exclaimed, beaming at you so brightly your chest hurt.

As you pressed a kiss to his eager lips, you barely noticed the storm had cleared.

Taglist: @magic-multicolored-miracle @midnightseance @messengeronthemoon @the-freckled-luba @firstpersonnarrator @phoenixhits @super-unpredictable98 @spanishmossmagnolia @salvador-daley @duck-noises @forenschik @simsiddy @a-ghoulish-tale @love-is-dirty-baby @captainsheeballs @DarkHeartBrightSmile

#sean falco #bad samaritan #sean falco x reader #joz answers #anonymous #prompt request #my writing

[dongofthewolf]

Everything in Between- Chapter 1

Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader

The reader stumbles across Abby one sleepless night and can’t help but become an absolute stuttering mess.

Warnings: swearing, mild violence, fluff, bad grammar lol

I’m extremely new to this so please be gentle T-T

Read chapter 2 here !

The first thing that you always noticed about a person was their eyes (it’s cliché you knew that, but you really couldn’t help it), and anyways… that was the first thing you noticed about her. The first time you saw her it was pouring outside; the kind of pouring where it got dark at 5pm and the reflections in the puddles on the pavement—partly distorted by the heavy raindrops—looked like fun house mirrors. It was brief and she only passed you for a second, but the clouds that were concealing the sun left a shadow of darkness in the air and in her eyes. Making her regularly blue eyes a much darker shade from the lack of sunlight, a blue that looked like the part of the ocean you can see from the shore but avoid from fear you may drown in it. 

You had forgotten your umbrella that day leaving your hair drenched, you were shivering from the cold and desperately made your way to your room as quickly as you could. But as you hastily walked with your head down in an effort to conceal your eyes from the raindrops, you bumped into her. She was a lot taller than you and was incredibly built, she had her long blonde hair in a neat braid and was wearing some simple cargo pants with a grey sweater. She was also carrying some bags but you were walking too fast to really get a good look at them. Although this was the first time you had seen her and it was only for a moment you’ll never forget those eyes, those dark blue eyes that made it seem as if she was hiding from something. That was the first time you saw her but it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

It was stormy again but at least today you were inside, the howling of the wind against the windows woke you up and when you glanced at the digital clock it read 2:30. You always had trouble falling asleep again once you were woken from your slumber, and found that you required at least an hour before you could actually sleep again. Since it was so late though you figured that the cafeteria would be empty and you could grab a cup of tea before going back to bed, you also often sat in the commons room to read because it’s pretty isolated from the rest of the place and very seldom did anyone else sit there too. 

You pulled a black crewneck over your messy hair and put on some slides before making your way down to the cafeteria, the hallways leading up to it were lit with fluorescent lights that burned your eyes when you stepped out of the darkness of your room. It was surprisingly silent (with the exception of your footsteps of course) and after living in a place constantly occupied by so many people for so many years, it was a rare occasion to find some peace and quiet; an anomaly that still surprised you to this day. 

The cafeteria was nothing special, there were 30-40 folding tables lined up near the big tear stained windows and next to the kitchen there was a communal fridge with a basket of fruits no one dared to touch. Cabinets lined the whole half of the room and you reached into the second last one to grab some chamomile tea before setting the kettle on the stove. 

You sat by the windows while you waited for the water to boil when you saw a strike of lightning, it was purple and quickly followed by a large cracking noise which weirdly enough didn’t quite startle you. You supposed that after all these years of living in a place that is universally known to rain more than anything, you become accustomed to the crashing sound of thunder and the sudden flashes of lightning. Plus, it’s a lot better than the sound of guns going off or those dreaded clickers that haunted your nightmares. So consumed by your thoughts you hadn’t even noticed the whistling noise coming from the tea kettle. It wasn’t until you heard an unfamiliar voice that nearly made you leap out of your skin, you turned around and standing there was the very girl you had briefly seen that rainy afternoon just three days ago.

“You gonna get that or should I?” She was wearing some grey sweats and a khaki tank top that showcased her huge biceps, you admired her toned forearms, unable to form any combination of words that wouldn’t make you sound like a complete and utter idiot. She must have noticed you staring though because she repeated the question with a raised eyebrow and a small smirk. “Hello?” She asked.

“Right… sorry” you immediately responded. You laughed nervously and hurriedly ran to the tea kettle, a small blush forming on your cheeks as you removed it from the stovetop. While pouring the hot water into a small cup you quickly threw the tea bag in so she wouldn’t notice your shaking hands, as you threw the bag in you quietly ignored the quickening beat of your heart. At this point you couldn’t tell if the shaking was because you were startled by her sudden presence or if you were nervous because of the literal goddess staring down at you.

“Sorry again about that I was just distracted.” You looked up and she was studying you with those same blue eyes, the intensity from her gaze made you ramble on.

“Did you want some tea? I accidentally boiled too much water, I guess eyeballing measurements just isn’t my forte.” You chuckled again, clearly flustered by this gorgeous woman looking at you in your damn pajamas. Somehow even at two in the morning she managed to look effortlessly beautiful and you couldn’t help but be fiercely jealous of her overwhelming confidence. Up until now, no one had ever had this effect on you, then all of a sudden this stranger looks at you once and BOOM you’re a stuttering mess.

“Sure, does this place have any chamomile tea?” She said nonchalantly while grabbing a chair from the stack in the corner. She sat in it backwards with her arms resting on top of the chair and you flashed a glance at her toned forearms “holy shit is she strong” you thought.

“Yeah, I’m having some too actually.” You poured out the tea and sat down across from her, this was the first time you had actually been able to really see her and you were in awe of how gorgeous she was; Her hair was in a simple braid which had a few strands astray (most likely from sleeping in it) and she had these adorable freckles that spread from her face all the way down to her arms. She was staring at her cup with those same intense blue eyes—this time the fluorescents adding a tint of green to them—she looked like a statue that was literally sculpted by the Gods and you couldn’t take your eyes off of her. As you looked down at her calloused hands that were cupping the warm ceramic cup, you noticed that they were a lot larger than your own, but they also had a delicacy to them; the kind of delicacy that deserved to be in a museum. Every aspect of her was absolutely perfect and never in your life had you seen someone like her, you were struck with this sudden need to know everything about her (even though she didn’t really seem like the chatty kind). Consumed by the essence of her beauty and strength you almost hadn’t realized that she was talking to you, and “oh God” You thought “I was staring again”.

“So uh… what’s your name?” It was obvious she was trying to fill the silence but there was a softness and kindness to her words, almost as if she was trying to appear harmless. 

“Y/n and yours?” You replied in the calmest way that you could even though your hands were shaking like crazy, you gripped on to your cup for dear life hoping she wouldn’t notice. You were always so terrible around new people and now with the combination of not just a complete stranger, but an incredibly charming and attractive stranger? You were surely doomed.

“It’s Abigail but you can call me Abby, most everybody does.” She was clearly not oblivious to your nervous manner (and your staring) but she pretended not to notice, probably to spare you the embarrassment. Having people stare at her was nothing new to Abby and honestly, she liked it. She felt powerful and strong when men were intimidated by her, but the way y/n was staring at her was different. It certainly wasn’t fear because despite the shaking of y/n’s hands that she tried so desperately to conceal, she didn’t look at Abby with fear “Perhaps it was admiration?” Abby thought. But she soon nudged any ideas of romanticism from her mind figuring that y/n was probably into those douchebags who act cocky and disrespectful but are too chicken to ask a girl out; Abby despised disrespectful people. However, if there was anything that Abby hated more than disrespectful assholes, it was embarrassment. Abby’s confidence was one of her greatest strengths, it was like a shield she put forward that helped her endure the incredibly misogynistic environment she lived in. She figured that the staring was just intimidation. Abby was quite confident in her ability to judge a person’s character and brushed any thoughts of attraction to the back of her mind, not wanting to risk the possibility of rejection or being wrong. 

“So what brings you to the cafeteria at this fine hour? Besides the tea of course.” She smirked, her smile was so infectious that you couldn’t help but smile as well.

“I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep, figured I’d drink some tea and read for a bit in the commons room. Better than laying in my bed and staring at the ceiling for an hour I guess.” You stopped yourself before you could say something stupid or embarrassing. “What about you?”

“I just got here a couple days ago and I’m a pretty light sleeper which normally would be fine, but that damn thunder won’t shut the hell up!” She pointed her fist to the sky dramatically and you couldn’t help but giggle, she looked at you with a smile. “They stationed me here to do some work and I haven’t had much time to myself, they gave me some time off tomorrow and now thanks to this storm I’m gonna spend it passed out in my bed.” She paused, contemplating her words before continuing. “I’m glad I met you though, late nights are much better with company.” You could feel a heat trickle to your cheeks. “So what are you reading?” 

“Pride and Prejudice” You answered excitedly. “It’s my favourite book, I’ve read it like a hundred times. I guess I’m just a sucker for cheesy love stories” She grinned.

“It was good but Elizabeth? She was way out of Darcy’s league, I mean yeah she had pride but Darcy was prideful and snobby.” You giggled at her response and the thought of this tough and brawny girl reading Jane Austen. “I mean, if you’re gonna have a terrible character trait just choose one. Not both!” 

“Okay… But you gotta admit they were perfect for each other” You added. “Their weaknesses complimented each other and then their strengths the same. It’s like they were meant to find each other, and I mean just the thought of something like that gives me hope you know?” She looked at you with a raised eyebrow, urging you to elaborate. “Soulmates, I mean… just the thought of there being one single person on this entire Earth who was put here alongside you, the perfect match who’s strengths compliment your weaknesses and vice versa makes me feel some sort of hope.” You felt yourself getting carried away and decided to let her speak. “What can I say, I guess I’m nothing if not an optimist.”

“I get what you mean but I feel like that’ll just set you up for disappointment. There's so much more to life than just love and finding your ‘soulmate’. There’s thunderstorms, books, good food, there’s family and friends, and strangers that make you tea.” she glanced at you and your heart skipped a beat “this is insane!” You thought “Not only is she totally gorgeous, but she’s smart and funny? God she’s so perfect I think I might melt where I stand”

“Fine, fine, you got me there.” You smiled and was struck with this sudden feeling of security that you’d never felt before Abby, and though you’d never really admit it, you realized that all this time living in a facility had made you really lonely. Speaking to Abby was seriously the first time in this place that you weren’t thinking about the end of the world or crying over lost family and friends. At this small fold-out table in this dull and dreary cafeteria, you felt the first modicum of safety that you hadn’t felt for a really long time, and it was all because of her. You noticed that your mind had wandered off again of course but Abby’s mind seemed to be elsewhere as well, she had an almost nervous or unsure look on her face.

“Hey, so I know you said you were gonna go read in the commons room but do you think you could ditch Elizabeth and Darcy for a bit? I haven’t really gotten a chance to see this place and I was hoping you could maybe give me a tour.” Abby asked in a casual tone, hoping y/n wouldn’t notice the slight nervousness in her voice. 

“Of course! I’d love to show you around, though there isn’t much to see other than empty halls and abandoned rooms” You replied enthusiastically. You were ecstatic, she was the first person you had really connected with in a while and you jumped at the opportunity to spend more time with her.

“I don’t mind, as long as I have you to keep me company.” She winked at you and smiled warmly. You felt your heart skip a beat again “Is Abby flirting with me?” You thought. “Nah, probably not” She was the coolest and most beautiful girl you’d ever seen. What would she see in you? Plus Abby probably isn’t even into girls, she’s just being friendly.

You walked her through each of the empty halls and corridors while you guys chatted about books, friends, family, life before the outbreak, and everything in between. You even traded embarrassing dating stories in which you both had to stifle loud outbursts of laughter so you wouldn’t wake up the rest of the facility. While you were speaking about your various dating escapades you decided to sprinkle in a story about a girl to see Abby’s reaction.

“Okay okay I got a good one, so once I was dating this girl and we actually moved in with each other like a month into the relationship but that’s not important. Anyways, so I had this cat right and when we broke up a few months later and she moved out, she took the cat!” You both bursted out laughing. “She literally stole my cat and I was so pissed that I keyed ‘thief’ into her car.” 

“Remind me not to piss you off y/n, you’re a vengeful one.” Abby chuckled and responded casually. You were slightly unsatisfied, she hadn’t reacted to that statement (or any of the subtly gay references you made) at all and you couldn’t tell if it was because she liked girls or because she didn’t care. It didn’t really bother you that much though because this was the most fun you had had in a long time. When you were laughing and talking with Abby all the thoughts about your family and impending doom—thoughts that were once constant—had begun to fade away. All that mattered now was Abby, she was the best thing that had happened to you in a really long time and you were so grateful to have met her.

By the time you guys had decided to depart it was six in the morning, Abby walked you back to your room and you couldn’t help but feel like every atom in your entire body was vibrating. 

You had spent an entire night with this amazing girl who was now the first friend that you’ve had in a while, your cheeks were bright red and your heart felt like it was shaking. When you laid your head on your pillow to sleep you couldn’t shake the thought of those brilliant blue eyes, and that clever, knowing grin that made you melt. God, and you couldn’t forget those gigantic biceps, you just wanted her to crush your skull with those beautiful, freckled arms. You adored her, and as you drifted off into a deep and peaceful slumber you dreamt of the most incredibly gorgeous, funny, charming, and intelligent girl you had ever met: Abigail Anderson.

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson imagine #abby anderson #abby tlou #fluff #fxf #tlou #tlou2 #the last of us #the last of us part 2 #the last of us imagine

[lizbotw]

Hiii! Can you write a headcanon or scenario (whichever you're more comfortable with) of how Katsuki, Hawks and Todoroki would comfort their s/o, who is terrified of loud noises, during a thunderstorm. I'm not sure of how many characters you do per request, but if you only do 1 can you choose Katsuki 😅 Thank you~

Bakugou, Hawks, and Todoroki Comforting Their S/O During a Thunderstorm

first request!!! i hope you like it ♡ i did bullet points because i intended to do headcanons to start off simple, but they’re sort of scenario-ish? i think i might turn these into full blown scenarios one day so look out for that ;)

Bakugou Katsuki

It’s the first time you’re staying over at his place and there’s a storm raging outside. What had originally began as a light patter of rain had now turned into a downpour, and things seemed to be taking a turn for the worst as you caught sight of a lightning flash outside. You were bracing yourself for the loud thunder that usually accompanied it.

Somehow you had convinced Katsuki to make a blanket fort with you, taunting him that he probably sucked at it, and of course he had taken the challenge, so now you had an awesome blanket fort to cozy up in.

While you’re getting all comfortable among the blankets and pillows, thinking about what movie the two of should watch, Katsuki was in the kitchen getting snacks.

A sudden crack of thunder caused you to yelp and burrow down into the blankets, and he peeked his head out of the kitchen to see why you had made that noise.

“(Y/N)? What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you knocked down the fort again, I fucking swear to God.” Oops, yeah, you had knocked it down a few times before, but of course he always rebuilt it for you. ♡♡♡

But when you didn’t immediately reply this time, he grew pretty concerned. He pretended to be annoyed that he had to leave the kitchen to come check on you, but secretly he was also really worried, especially once he heard your quiet whimpers the closer he got to the fort.

Cautiously, Katsuki moved one of the blankets that was in his way since it was functioning as the “entrance” to the fort (half expecting you to jump out and surprise him—he had learned after the first time you could not be trusted to not try to prank him), and looked inside, confused by the shaking pile of blankets that had small sobs coming from it.

Eventually he would manage to coax you out enough to tell him what was wrong and once you told him, he would try to play it off as a little silly (after all, he’s used to loud noises from the explosions he’s constantly making so it doesn’t seem as big a deal to him), but you could tell he didn’t really mean it—he just didn’t want to give in so easily to your demands for cuddles.

Just use your puppy eyes on him and his arms will be wrapped around you within seconds, although he’ll be grumbling about how stupid this is and how he can’t believe you made him abandon getting the snacks just for this (all while still pulling you closer to him because he likes your warmth of course).

Somehow he’ll force you let go of him enough that he can finish getting the snacks (he struggled very hard to pull your arms off, but of course this man is stubborn and wants his snacks so you have to agree to this one thing for now), and tells you just to wait for him and stop being so pouty because he’s coming back in literally five minutes (of course the pout is cute to him but like... he can’t let you know that).

When he comes back, you instantly tackle him back into a hug, and you guys stay that way for the rest of the night. He lets you choose the movie, even if it’s some romantic thing he couldn’t care less about, and makes sure it’s something that’ll cheer you up (so probably no horror because as much as he likes when you get scared during them and cling to him, you’re already doing that right now so no need to scare you more).

He’ll pile up more blankets because they’ll muffle the sound of thunder (he says he’s just improving his fort and it’s totally not for your benefit or anything) and turn up the volume for the movie to drown out most of the noise.

He’ll let you bury you face in his chest if you want and playfully cover your ears sometimes to tease you and ask if that helps.

Thunderstorms with Katsuki would involve him allowing lots of physical contact (way more than usual) if that’s what comforts you, him trying to distract you because he’s not too good with offering soothing words so he hopes his actions help, and him grumbling a lot about the whole thing, although you’re used to his attitude since you love him so much, so it’s actually pretty endearing because you can tell he’s really trying.

Plus of course you feel really safe in his arms, especially when he says that if the thunder was a person he’d totally beat their ass for you.

Takami Keigo (Hawks)

“Hey, um, sorry to bother you, but could you come over?” You had called your boyfriend while you were buried under the sheets in your bed, too scared to move and trembling as you waited for the next spine-chilling crack of thunder to erupt.

“Didn’t know you missed me that much, babe.~” You could practically hear Keigo suggestively wiggling his eyebrows over the phone as he purred that.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” you replied exasperatedly, used to his flirting, but unable to keep a playful smile from tugging at your lips, “you know-” You didn’t get to finish your sentence before the sound of thunder filled your ears and you yelped, shrieking into the phone and dropping it out of surprise.

You could hear Keigo’s muffled voice asking if you were okay and you used that to help you find your phone, fumbling around in the sheets where it had gotten lost.

You eventually found it and pressed it back to your ear, wanting to hear his reassuring voice to calm yourself down.

After explaining what had happened, a slight tremor still in your voice, Keigo would immediately agree to come over.

You felt bad about making him go out in the rain just for your benefit but he assured you it was fine because it wasn’t that far, plus it was a “hero’s job” as he put it.

Keigo suggested you stay on the phone with him so he could talk to you to try and help until he got there.

You waited anxiously for him, but it helped a little bit to focus on talking to him on the phone.

When he arrived, he let himself in, since you had given each other keys to your houses so both of you could stop by whenever one of you wanted, and found a shivering pile of blankets on your bed. When he called out for you and you peeked your head over your blanket, he couldn’t help but smile because you looked so cute like that.

Since you guys stay the night with each sometimes, you also had overnight clothes and other things at each other’s place, so he grabbed a pair of comfy pajamas he had left in your room and quickly changed into them so he didn’t get your bed dirty with the clothes he had just been outside with, and climbed into bed next to you, immediately engulfing you in his arms despite your protests.

Cue snuggle fest. ♡

Expect to spend the rest of the night under the covers with him and him refusing to let you go because he wants to protect you. He’ll talk to you throughout the night about any random thing you want, making lighthearted jokes here and there, and pull you closer when he hears the thunder before you can even ask him to, peppering your face with kisses constantly.

Keigo would be down to come over whenever you wanted him to and if the weather forecast that day predicted thunderstorms, expect him to show up at your door ready to spend the night, or even come home to him already on your couch, having let himself in yet again.

We all know how much he loves to have free time from his hero duties so you don’t have to worry about him being too busy to come over, and in fact you’ll probably have to convince him you’ll be fine and that the light rain the news predicted wouldn’t scare you too much (he doesn’t care and will insist he wants to spend time with his baby no matter what though ♡).

Todoroki Shouto

You and Shouto had planned to hang out together today and you invited him over to spend the night. The rain had been light that afternoon, so when he showed up at your door, his hair was lightly dripping with water as he gave you a small, sweet smile, and an umbrella was at his side. He honestly looked really cute like that.

You quickly encouraged him to go take a shower and change into warm clothes so he wouldn’t get sick and he thanked you as he headed off to do just that.

While he was gone, you called up a nearby pizza place to order so you guys would have something to eat since you had a whole bunch of plans for the evening and the jam packed schedule left no time for you guys to waste cooking.

After you did that, you just lounged around waiting for Shouto to come back.

Except the rain started getting harder and you were getting pretty worried.

You went to the window to watch the lightning even though you know there would likely be thunder as well that would scare you, but you just couldn’t seem to tear yourself away from watching the rain pouring down outside. It was like you were torturing yourself, but also you wanted to watch for some strange reason.

Shouto eventually finished up with his shower and got dressed in the clothes he had brought with him in his overnight bag. He walked out of the bathroom with a small towel slung around his shoulders and his hair still a slightly damp with little water droplets on it just as before, except this time it wasn’t the freezing cold rain that was to blame for it. He called out to you, but you didn’t answer, so he walked out into the living room to see if you were busy doing something and just didn’t hear him.

Shouto instantly noticed you nervously peeking out of the window and came up behind you.

“(Y/N)?” He placed a hand on your shoulder to get your attention, but when you jumped out of surprise at his touch, he immediately took his hand away and began apologizing.

You turned around to see who it was and couldn’t help but laugh at his apologetic expression. You told him it was fine with a smile, just that you had gotten a little startled when he accidentally snuck up on you, and when he asked why you had been so on edge, your expression fell a little and you looked down, too embarrassed to look him in the eye.

He gently caressed your face and carefully brought it back up so he could look at you, assuring you that it would be fine no matter what the problem was.

When you told him the reason you were so scared, he smiled, glad it wasn’t anything too serious, and told you that it was nothing to be ashamed of as he led you over to the couch so you guys could cuddle together. Whenever the thunder sounded outside, he would press a kiss to the top of your head or to your forehead and stroke your hair, asking if you were okay.

If he saw you keep glancing over at the window, he would get up and close the blinds so you wouldn’t have to worry about what was going on outside. Plus, you guys had a bunch of games and movies you wanted to get through as part of your sleepover, so he distracted you with those activities, giving you soft smiles and comforting you whenever you needed. He didn’t mind if you wanted to snuggle closer to him or hold his hand, and would rub soothing circles on your back if you were hugging or on the back of your hand if your hands were just resting on top of each other. He would even use his quirk to adjust his body temperature just how you like it.

Definitely expect sleepovers with him to become more common because it was so nice spending time with you just doing mundane, fun things to pass the time, plus you were so cute like this and he loved the feeling of protecting you. Lots of skinship and soft touches as he tries to constantly soothe you and let you know that he was there for you. He would try his best to make sure that one part of each of you was always touching throughout the evening for comfort, even if one of you was just leaning your head on the other’s shoulder, or even just him having his arm around your shoulders as you watched something on T.V. together.

He was getting so attuned to the thunder sounds so that he could be more aware of when he needed to comfort you, since usually he just tried to tune that sort of thing out because it didn’t bother him, that when your doorbell rang and the pizza guy announced his arrival, Shouto actually jumped a little in his seat out of surprise. You giggled at that and he couldn’t head but smile at the sight as he bashfully admitted that maybe he got a little spooked by something so simple. His heart swelled at the sight of seeing you so happy, since you had been trembling in fear just moments before, and he felt warm all over. Even as he volunteered to go get the pizza, and opened the door to take it and pay, he couldn’t stop smiling and felt like he couldn’t get back to you soon enough so you guys could sit down and eat together and go back to talking and playing around.

#bnha x reader #bnha imagines #bnha scenarios #mha imagines #mha scenarios #mha x reader #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou #takami keigo #todoroki shoto #todoroki #todoroki shouto #hawks #this request was so old i’m sorry #life got in the way ugh #i hope you still like it though!!! #i put a lot of effort in #i’m going to be more active now #ahhh so many tags #i don’t know if there’s anything else to add #please send requests and give feedback :’))

[fowl-fox]

Weather, Together

A one-shot based off a prompt sent to me by the ever talented @fowlblue Timangelino AU, hurt/comfort, contains (very mild) suggestive language at one point.

---

It was not quite an hour before noon when the first rumbles of thunder reached Jon Spiro’s ears.

It had been a dreary morning, and he had been expecting rain. The wind had been howling since he’d woken up alone, curled up in the middle of the enormous bed that belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Fowl.

And me, he reminded himself, Angeline’s loving assurances from the night before echoing in his mind. Our bed.

It wasn’t unusual for the other two to be up before him. Artemis Senior and Angeline often started their early mornings with a quick workout, before freshening up and joining their children for breakfast. Jon’s stomach couldn’t handle anything solid in the morning, so he usually took the extra few hours for sleep. He admired his partners’ ability to rise and shine most mornings, but secretly, he wished they’d sleep in more often. It was nice to wake up next to someone else, he’d discovered.

The thunder rumbled again, already much louder. He didn’t pay it much mind.

He wondered if his lovers were too busy to be bothered at the moment; he was finding it hard to concentrate on his own work. Jon looked over the reports his secretary had forwarded to him and sighed. Perhaps he could use a break. Closing his laptop, he walked over to the window and looked out at the manor grounds. He was becoming more and more familiar with them every time he stayed. Not too far off, the limbs of a downy birch waved dramatically in the wind of the oncoming storm, as though it could scare away the rolling black clouds headed towards them. He remembered Tim trying to teach him the names of the different trees that surrounded Fowl Manor. For the most part, the names didn’t stick.

I remember that one though, thought Jon. He grinned wickedly. Pressed Tim right up against it.

---

The thunder rumbled once more, this time with enough volume to rattle the window panes and shake Jon from his salacious thoughts. Droplets of rain began to tap a warning on the glass in front of him. Jon decided he’d take a break after all, and headed out of the study he’d been given to see what Tim and Angeline were up to.

A quick walk through the common areas of Fowl Manor did not reveal anyone other than one of the maids, who apologetically told Jon that she did not know where any of the Fowls were. Jon sighed and pulled out his phone, dialing a few quick text messages. He wandered into the surprisingly cozy kitchen that was used to prepare the family’s meals while he waited for a response.

The décor could use an upgrade, he thought, as he grabbed a plate from a cabinet that was from the 1970s at the latest, before peering in the fridge. He was halfway through his simple snack of cheese and crackers before his phone buzzed in his pocket. Angeline had responded.

Took the boys out for some shopping :-) Timmy should be home.

Ok :-) he replied. He wasn’t a fan of these ‘smileys’ as the youth called them, but Angeline thought they were cute, so he’d indulge her. He unceremoniously crammed the last few crackers in his mouth before leaving his plate on the counter and heading back out into the entrance hall.

Fowl Manor was a bit of an enigma to Spiro. It was old but sturdy, meticulously maintained, and crammed full of art and antiquities, though incredibly, it did not feel cluttered. It was as tasteful as a display of enormous wealth and privilege could be. It somehow seemed simultaneously spacious and cramped. It reminded him of a rabbit’s warren; he’d read about them in a book once. The entrance hall gave way to several doors and hallways- the grand staircase did the same. When the Fowl family was home, it felt safe to him; a warm retreat from the cold and the dangers outside. But when he was alone? It seemed almost unbearably empty. The eyes in the portraits of previous generations that covered the walls seemed particularly unwelcoming as he stood under them. If he was a superstitious man, he’d swear the place was haunted. Jon had no clue how anyone else could stand to be in such a place on their own.

There was a startling flash of lightning through the entrance hall’s high windows, temporarily bathing the walls and the polished parquet floor in white light. The thunder outside roared and shook the old building once more. The wind howled mournfully outside; the storm was fully upon them now.

He checked his phone again, frowning. Tim still had not responded to him, which was unusual. The man checked his cell phone habitually. Maybe he went back to bed? Jon wondered. For the most part the Fowl Patriarch had recovered from his ‘ordeal’ in the Arctic, but every now and then, phantom limb pains would creep up on him, and he would retreat to the bedroom with a grumble and a microwave heat pack in tow.

(Jon wasn’t sure how the heat pack was supposed to help phantom pains, but he didn’t question it. He wasn’t a doctor.)

He was heading towards the bedroom when he noticed that the door to his partner’s study was cracked open ever so slightly. He must have just missed him on his way to the kitchen earlier, he realized. Jon didn’t bother knocking before peering in.

---

Sure enough, Artemis Senior was inside, sitting next to the fireplace in his favorite chair. He was draped across it in what seemed an unusually casual pose for him. His face was cradled in his hands, the thumb of his left slowly rubbing over the pink scar tissue that wound about from under his chin to just above his eye. But it wasn’t Tim’s draped figure or his slow ministrations to his scars that bothered Jon. It was his eyes. The man was staring far off into the distance, far beyond the room he sat in, beyond Jon standing in the doorway. He made no sign that he even knew anyone else was there.

“Tim?”

His partner didn’t respond, continuing to stare right through him. Jon swallowed, unsure of what to do.

“Tim?” he tried again. There was still no response.

The thunder roared once more, violently shaking the window panes of the study. Tim’s eyes still did not move, but the rest of him froze completely still. Jon realized he wasn’t even breathing.

His first urge was to grab the other man by the shoulders and shake him, to tell him to snap out of it. But some quiet part of him overrode his rough instincts, telling him that wasn’t a good idea. And for once, he listened to that quieter part of himself. God forbid he freak Tim out worse. What would Angeline do? he thought to himself. He walked slowly over to his frozen partner, taking care not to get too close, but still within easy reach.

“Tim, it’s me. I’m right here, okay?” he said softly, slowly waving his hand in front of Tim’s face, his jewelry jingling. The other man didn’t respond, but he didn’t startle either. That had to be good start, right? Jon noticed that he had slowly started breathing again, albeit a bit shakily. He paused his waving thoughtfully, before allowing himself to try something that on paper would have sounded ludicrous.

“Hey, Tim? Pspspspsps? Tim?” he grinned mischievously, purposefully jingling his jewelry near his partner’s ear as though he were a kitten. Tim’s breathing slowly evened out, and his brow furrowed.

Then suddenly, he blinked. Glacier blue eyes focused on the wrist of the man in front of him, before settling on Jon’s own.

“What,” he swallowed, voice strained. “What in God’s name are you doing?”

“Trying to get your attention.” Jon grinned, relieved. That familiar grumpy face was a much more welcome sight than the haunted stare he’d walked in on.

Artemis Senior sighed, re-adjusting himself into a proper seating position while straightening out his shirt sleeves.

“Well, you have it. What do you want, Jon?”

Jon straightened up and gave a short laugh that sounded like a cricket hidden in a drain pipe.

“I want to know if you’ll come watch some TV with me.”

Tim groaned. “Not it if you’re watching one of those ridiculous soap operas.”

“Tim, I promise, we can watch whatever boring crap you like.”

Thunder shook the house again, and for a second Tim froze once more. Jon grew worried, and jingled his wrist again. To his relief, the other man seemed to shake himself back into the present.

“The history program isn’t boring.”

“To you it’s not. C’mon Tim.” he held out his hand, grinning again when it was reluctantly accepted.

---

It was a little while later, seated together in front of the television in one of the more tucked away, windowless sitting rooms, that Jon decided to pry a bit.

“Didn’t know you were scared of storms.”

Tim didn’t respond, keeping his eyes on screen.

“Tim?”

“I’m not.” he said finally, sighing. His hand went his leg, and for a moment Jon though he would say something else. But Tim remained silent. He refused to look anywhere but the television screen.

He spared a glance up at the winding scars that covered one side of Artemis Seniors face, and suddenly, something in his mind clicked.

“I see.” was all he said, leaning up against Tim.

A few more minutes passed before Jon decided he’d take another chance.

“Hey, Tim?”

“What, Jon?”

“Can I?”

“Can you what?” sighed Tim, deciding it wasn’t worth the effort to correct his grammar. Looking over at Jon, he found his hand carefully hovering near his cheek, over the pink scar tissue. He swallowed, mulling over the implied question.

“Alright,” he said, after a minute.

Jon lightly traced his fingers over the raised marks, following the twists in the grooves where searing hot flames had attempted to eat away his lover’s flesh. Tim sat still, his eyes closed, breath deep and slow. Jon continued tracing patterns before lightly cupping his jaw both hands, turning his face to meet his and carefully pressing a kiss to his lips. He internally celebrated when Tim didn’t protest. The man’s startling blue eyes opened, giving him a look of acceptance. Jon smiled, turning Tim’s head slightly to the side, and hovered his lips over the largest mark. It was a long, jagged gash that carved its way down from his brow, over his eyelids, and settled deep underneath a prominent cheekbone.

He opened his mouth to ask again, but to his surprise, Tim spoke first.

“Go ahead.”

He pressed his lips to the mark, holding them there for several seconds. Tim closed his eyes once more and breathed in deep as his chest filled with a warmth that rose up to his shoulders, up to his neck, and finally settled in his head, the constant buzz of anxiety that haunted him temporarily subsiding to the pleasant feeling that until recently, only Angeline had ever gifted him. Memories of roaring fires, suffocating smoke, panic, confusion, freezing water, and overwhelming pain suddenly gave way to the present, the cozy room they were tucked into, and the warm lips of the man seated beside him.

He basked in it momentarily before taking Jon’s head into his own hands and pressing a kiss of his own to his lips.

“Thank you, Jon.”

“Don’t mention it,” grinned Jon, feeling airy. “Can we watch something else now?”

Artemis Senior groaned, settling back into the couch.

“Fine,” he said, though he honestly wasn’t that upset about it. Jon would be Jon. “Anything but one of your gore-fests.”

“Oh c’mon,” said Jon, grabbing the remote, flicking through the guide. “Those movies are good for you, keeps the blood pumping.”

“Whatever you say.”

Jon laughed.

---

A few hours later, after the storm had passed, Angeline and the Fowl offspring would return to find Jon entranced by some terrible 90’s slasher flick, with Tim dozing on his shoulder. Angeline winked at her sons. Artemis Junior and Myles rolled their eyes in return and quickly dispersed. Beckett wanted to watch the movie, but with a pointed look from Angeline, Jon turned it off. The remaining boy groaned and went off to find his twin.

Angeline settled on the arm of the couch beside Jon and placed a kiss on the top of his head. Artemis Senior stirred slightly beside them, but didn’t open his eyes.

“How are you, darlings?” she said, reaching over Jon to run her fingers through her dozing husband’s hair. “What a nasty storm that was, the grounds are a mess.”

Jon gave her his best sleazy grin.

“Oh, we made it through just fine.” he said, reaching up to take her other hand.

Angeline smiled and hummed, and Jon marveled at how such an elegant woman could pull off such a mischievous grin of her own.

“I see,” she said, settling cat-like on her perch. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“We’re glad you’re back,” he said, picking up the remote. “You want to pick something else to watch?”

Angeline hummed again, thinking.

“How about Fair City?”

A soap opera. Beside them on the couch, Tim groaned.

#fowldom #timangelino au #artemis senior #jon spiro #angeline #fanfiction #artemis fowl